


The Munificent Seven

by TheArchimage



Series: If We Fall Down [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambassador Papyrus, Chara Is Not Evil, Color Coded Magic, Dyslexic Frisk, Earn Your Happy Ending, Frisk Is Not Evil, Genocide Route Never Happened, Ghost Chara, Narrator Chara, No More Resets (Undertale), Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", Red Is Love, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-02-13 23:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 95,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12994389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchimage/pseuds/TheArchimage
Summary: The barrier is broken. Monsters are free. Take a deep breath, because between securing monster rights, integrating into a new society, and reviving the lost art of magic there's a lot to worry about. Meanwhile Frisk and their ghostly narrator Chara realize exactly what is needed to revive Asriel: no less than seven human souls, all given willingly.(Reading previous entries in the series is recommended but not required to enjoy the story!)My tumblr ishere! I have a room on the Fanfic Paradise Discord channelhere!





	1. An Ordinary Camping Trip

**Author's Note:**

> A note about the warnings: the canon characters will be mostly fine. However, it should be clear from the premise that I will be introducing a large number of original characters and at bare minimum seven of them are going to be dead by the end of the fic. I will not use warnings on chapters where a major original character dies, but I will use warnings if anything else happens during a chapter which may be disturbing to some readers.

The woods surrounding Mount Ebott were not a popular tourist attraction. Smokey Forest Campgrounds had been losing money since it opened, being too close for Weymouth residents to feel like they were “getting away from it all” and too far away for out-of-towners to easily reach. The only reason it was still open at all is that its current owner could not be bothered to figure out something else to do with the land.

Silas was fairly sure he and his three friends from his high school days were the only people there at all this night, a single campfire in the dark expanse. He had been out of the state for nearly seven years so he expected nobody to welcome him back to his hometown. He was starting to think he might have preferred that. He never was much of a camper; he preferred to appreciate the outdoors from a distance, preferably through a screen of some kind, while surrounded by modern comfort. But, now as before, Susan was a hard person to say “no” to. That was how he ended up spending the last Friday before his Bar membership was transferred back to his home state sitting by a campfire with a cooler of cheap beer on one side of him and plastic grocery bags of foods to be served at room temperature on the other. He shuffled in his fold-away chair, eschewing its built-in cupholder to hold his beer can in the ever-so-slightly more convenient cupholder of “his left hand”. He crinkled his nose as he popped it open and the scent of hops wafted up his nose. “Leave it to Marty to get the swill,” he complained.

Marty thumped a hand against his chest with an expression of mock hurt. “But I got that special, just for you! C’mon, if you tried it you'd like the cheap stuff more than the fruity drinks they serve at the hotshot lawyer bars.”

“Do you really think lawyers drink thirty dollar cocktails?” Silas pulled the tab back and rotated it to the side, otherwise it would bump against his long nose and irritate him every time he took a sip. “Young lawyers need too much energy on too little sleep to risk hangovers. They tend to prefer cocaine.” He said it lightly but was only half-joking. It was actually something of a _problem_ in the industry. Not that he ever indulged in that or even considered it. He and his father had disagreements but he did not hate the man nearly enough to commit suicide in such a shameful way.

“So,” Susan said as she stuck the marshmallow on her stick directly into the flames. “What really happened down there in Texas? I didn’t hear you were moving back until you got here. Was the real world of practice too much for you?” She removed the marshmallow, now on fire, and watched with interest as it browned and blackened.

Silas shrugged as he swallowed his beer, staring into the campfire. He was wearing more clothing than any of his friends but still huddled close to the flames; it was a warm night for mid-September but he got cold easily. He wore a hoodie from his alma mater and khakis, both a little large to disguise the curves of his frame. “I don’t take kindly to bullies, and judges and prosecutors have a way of doing things down there. They don’t want some out-of-town public defender messing up their system. Is that enough for you to get the picture?”

“Maybe,” Chad said, easing himself onto his own chair with a soda in his hand. “Doesn’t mean we don’t want to hear you admit your temper got you in trouble.”

Silas gave him a dirty look but Chad’s grin was unshakable. “I didn't like how the system was set up. Like… here's one example. New Hampshire has a death penalty but we haven’t used it in years. Not out of any sympathy for the accused, but most people in this state don’t trust the government to make the call about ending someone’s life. But life is cheap down there; a man walks onto your property uninvited and you can shoot him no problem. But a man so mentally challenged he can’t even defend himself, let alone plan and commit a murder, and the jury executes him without a second thought. I couldn’t stand it, and let everyone know. That’s probably where I screwed up; if I’d kept quiet about it the whole thing would have never happened. But… well, you know.”

“Your own fault for going all the way to Texas,” Marty said. “Even the smart ones are still crazy stupid rednecks.”

“That’s classist,” Silas insisted with a frown. “They’re good people, really. They love their families, they have their daily struggles. So what if they don’t trust what they don’t know, that’s not so different from us. I was a poor fit for the culture, that’s all.” But that was not all, or at least it was not so minor a thing as he claimed. The solutions to iniquities always seem so simple to the young. If a different path is better, why not take it? And the elders smile and shake their heads, because a youth could not understand why things were the way they were and how delicately it all balanced to make something that worked. An outsider looking to improve things was like a toddler confronted with a Jenga tower, making everyone else nervous every time they extended a hand.

Susan pulled him out of his reverie. “So what now?”

“Dad’s letting me stay at his spare condo. I’ve submitted the paperwork to transfer over to the New Hampshire Bar, but I don’t think I’ll be staying forever. I’m going to keep my head down and do just enough work that I can’t be called a freeloader. I’ll move again when I feel up to it. After that, who knows.”

Marty laughed and clapped Silas on the back, poking through his personal bubble without a care in the world. “And that’s what we’re here for, man! Just sit back, relax, take a load off. Get plastered with your high school buddies and forget about it! And hey, look on the bright side, you’re still not as much of a screw-up as your brother.”

Silas glared dangerously. “Remind me again why you’re here? I don’t remember us ever being very good friends.”

“Hey, go easy on him,” Susan said as she carefully laid out her carbonized mess on a graham cracker. Molten white goo oozed between the cracks as she pushed a piece of chocolate and another graham cracker on top to complete the s’more. “We just thought you might like to know what your family’s been up to since you’ve been gone.”

“My brother and I are not on speaking terms.”

Chad was not smiling anymore. Susan moved closer to the fire in an attempt to dispel the chill which had come over her. Marty coughed, “Sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Silas said, exhaling with a great breath. “I don’t want to talk about him, so can we-”

The sound of rustling leaves in a rhythmic _shuff-shuff-shuff_ broke out and a hush fell over them. Animals did not make those kinds of sounds; only a human would be so careless. “Hellooooo?” Marty called out in the vague direction of the shuffling. The sound stopped abruptly. “Can we help you?” There was no immediate reply. After a moment a single shape advanced into the ring of light created by the campfire. Silas was expecting many things; a psychopath with a knife, teenagers looking for a quiet place to canoodle, an illegal trash dumper. They did not expect a child, four feet tall if that and dressed in a striped shirt and cargo shorts. The child was either a thin boy or a rough-looking girl, with a flat nose and small jaw which defied attempts to gender them by looks. They kept their eyes closed, but their head moved from one of them to the other like they were expecting someone to jump at them. They were not reacting to the sounds the group was making so that ruled out the kid being blind. So could they see after all?

Silas set his can down in the chair’s cupholder and stood up, brushing off his pants. “Hey kid, how’d you get out here?” he asked. He took a tentative step forward; the child responded by stepping back and Silas stopped. “Don’t be afraid. I’m even weaker than I look.”

Marty cupped his hands around his mouth to shout out, “Silas, go home! You’re drunk!”

Silas rolled his eyes. His friends laughed but the child did not. Still, they looked a little less tense. He stepped forward gingerly, hands off to his sides and open so the child could see he was unarmed. This time they did not retreat. “I don’t know what you’re doing alone in the woods at night, but you don’t have to talk about it now. We won’t hurt you, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Behind him Chad offered, “If you like you can sit by the fire and warm up a bit, and we have the stuff for s’mores and some other snacks if you’re hungry. I caught some fish earlier if you need something more substantial. Up to you, of course.”

Silas held out his hand for a shake, still two or three paces away from them. “My name is Silas Pembrooke. What’s yours?”

The child did not move right away. It was hard to tell where their attention lay or even whether they heard him at all. The child’s head cocked to the side as though looking at something over Silas’ shoulder, then they put their hand in Silas’. Their handshake was tentative and limp. “Frisk,” they introduced themselves. Then more quickly they added, “Holder.”

Silas pumped his handshake once. “Nice to meet you, Frisk.” 

“Hey, their shirt,” Susan said, pointing with her free hand at the child’s blue-and-lilac striped shirt. She sucked the sticky marshmallow off her fingers before standing up and walking toward the child. “Aren’t you that missing kid?” The child tilted their head in her direction and slowly, cautiously nodded. Frisk's hair was unkempt but clean. Their clothes looked worn but not three-days-in-the-wilderness worn. They did not have the sunken cheeks or the manic desperation of a child who had not eaten well. They looked like a kid who was checking out a strange noise in their backyard rather than one who had been missing and presumed dead. “Oh geez, isn’t that something! You're alive! Think we’ll end up in the papers for finding you?”

Frisk’s head turned toward each of the adults in turn, taking an extra moment to look Chad up and down. Silas realized they were sizing Chad up as a threat. This was not surprising: Marty was lanky but otherwise average, Silas was visually unimpressive, and Susan was downright tiny. By comparison Chad's broad shoulders, thick neck, and square face would have put him on the short list for the most dangerous person of any room he found himself in. After a moment they looked back at Silas. “I’m not alone,” they admitted the obvious. “Some people helped me. They’re my friends, and they wanna meet you.” 

Silas almost hoped this was a trick of some kind, if only because the setup was so outlandish that the scheme had to be good one. “Are they hiding in the woods there? Well, ask them to come up. It’s a bit much to ask us to step into the dark.”

The child shook their head. “Um!” they said with a trembling lower lip. “They aren’t bad! They’re really nice so don’t be scared!”

Marty shrugged with a grin. Susan licked a bit of marshmallow off her finger, looking wary but hopeful before looking to Chad. For his part Chad looked from Susan to Frisk before agreeing, “Alright, tell them to come up, but slowly and one at a time.”

The child turned away to address the darkness. “Okay, you can come out now.” Almost immediately they saw someone carefully approaching the campfire. The newcomer’s skin must have been very pale, perhaps even albino, to show up this well in the dark despite still being a fair distance away. As they came closer Silas felt his stomach seize. What he had thought was skin was actually a layer of dense white fur covering every visible surface of the bipedal creature’s body. It was wearing a purple robe with a simple design of three triangles under a circle with wings, but no gloves or even shoes. Its hands ended in claws and its feet were wide paws. The creature’s face was a muzzle, oversized canines protruding from its upper lip. But the eyes… the eyes flashed with intelligence and a warm if wary friendliness. The creature put a hand against a tree to steady itself as it stepped into the light of the fire, moving with deliberate carefulness. Silas heard his companions draw a sharp breath and saw Frisk stiffen like a rod. Nobody moved. Silas hardly dared to breathe. He looked over to Chad, and the fear in his eyes revealed this was not a hallucination or a trick of the alcohol. Silas’ attention returned to the creature just as the corners of its mouth upturned in a smile and it bent at the waist to bow. “Greetings,” the creature said in impeccable if oddly accented English, its facial muscles conforming to its skull perfectly enough to make Industrial Light & Magic jealous. “I am Toriel.”

Silas wobbled on his feet and stumbled backward. His vision swam. His head felt light and his chest felt heavy, like his torso was sucking his skull into it. He did not look to his friends this time, he could not tear his eyes away from the creature in front of him. Two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind to steady him, judging by the size of the hands it was probably Chad. Silas replanted his feet and the hands released him once he was on more solid footing. “H-Hello,” he said, a bit shakier than he did with Frisk. “My… I am… That is…”

The creature, Toriel, smiled but her eyes looked misty. “This is not a costume, no. It is a question I have heard more than once. I am not offended. But please, there is no reason to be afraid. We only wish peace.”

“We?” he coughed. There were more of them?

“Yes. This child’s closest friends among our kind are with us just a short distance away. The rest of us wait underneath Mt. Ebott, eagerly awaiting the day they can walk upon the surface once more. Oh, forgive me, my introduction was incomplete. I am, we all are, monsters. We thought it best if we introduced ourselves one at a time to avoid overwhelming you all.”

“That’s fair,” Silas said, feeling dizzy again. “That was a very good idea.” The hands at his shoulders disappeared and someone dragged his chair behind him. Silas took the hint and sat down roughly, exhaling.

Chad stepped out from behind Silas’ back. His expression was severe and he kept his right arm behind his back. “Hold on a minute. Before you go calling your friends, I got a couple questions. Like, why now? And what are you all doing wandering the woods in the middle of the night?”

“Woah!” Marty hopped up and put himself between them. “Easy, easy big guy. We’re all friends here, right? She came greeting us, no reason to be-”

He was interrupted by a flash of light behind him. Everyone turned to look at Susan, brandishing her phone with a manic grin. “This! Is the coolest! Thing! EVER!” She put her phone down to stare, eyes twinkling, at Toriel. “And there are more of you? C’mon, what’s there to think about? Bring ‘em on!”

Marty winced. “Sorry about her, Toriel, she’s kind of excitable.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Though I don’t think she’s wrong. I’d really like to see the rest of you, too.”

Chad realized he was outvoted and made a face. “… Fine. Call the rest of your buddies. We won’t start anything. Just… slowly, so there’s no surprises. Something about creatures coming out of the darkness makes us humans a little jumpy.” Toriel nodded, apparently missing his sarcasm, and walked back into the woods to confer with her fellows.

Marty walked over and put a hand on Silas’ shoulder. “You sure you’re okay, man? You want to hit the hay early, or at least have another beer?”

“I am-” Silas squeezed his eyes shut and took a calming breath. He had expected for Marty to make some kind of biting comment, so the genuine concern coming from the old class clown rattled him. Clearly Silas was not the only one who’d changed in the last seven years. “I’m fine. More alcohol won’t help, I don’t think. But I might… need a moment.”

“Just stay seated,” Chad said. He glanced around and whispered in his ear “Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping an eye out in case anybody tries to come from behind while we’re distracted.”

Silas did not have the chance to ask what Chad meant by that. Toriel was already coming back, her white fur standing out even on the night of a crescent moon. She stopped at the edge of the clearing and gestured to someone behind her. A small creature, who would barely have come past Toriel’s waist even if they were not slouching, stepped into the light of the fire. They wore glasses and a white labcoat, and shuffled forward while keeping their eyes trained on their clawed feet.

“Oh you’re adorable!” Susan cooed. She looked up to Toriel. “Why didn’t you start with this one?”

The answer became apparent when the yellow monster averted their gaze. “Oh! Well, um, thank you, but… I-I-I don’t like being, you know, the center of attention. I’m more of a… behind-the-scenes type. I’m Doctor Alphys, the… uh, the former Royal Scientist. _Yoru_ -… I mean, nice to meet you, heh heh! Heh.” She swallowed and looked at Toriel with a look which asked if she was done and if she could please disappear now.

“Izzat so?” Marty said, scratching his chin. “Well, I won’t put you on the spot then Alphys. Welcome aboard.” He gestured toward the fire. Alphys scuffed over to it, kicking up loose dirt while wringing her hands. Toriel and Frisk exhaled and looked at each other before Toriel bade the next come forward.

Marty’s jaw dropped. Chad gripped the pistol tucked behind his back tightly, ready to draw in a split-second. Even Susan paled a bit at seeing what came forth next. It was a skeleton. A walking, talking, six-foot-eight _skeleton_. The undead creature was oblivious to their distress and waved exuberantly. “Greetings humans!” His voice echoed off the trees and silenced the wildlife in the area. “I am the Great Papyrus! I shall be the ambassador for monster/human relations. I would also like to count you all as my super-cool friends outside of my official duties, so feel free to bend my ear anytime on any subject!”

There was a pause as the humans tried to connect the terrifying thing in front of them with the incredibly friendly greeting they received from it. Marty’s face froze in a grin as his eyes darted from one corner to the other. “Am… am I supposed to laugh? I really seriously don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to this.”

Silas let out a shaky breath, choosing his words carefully so he would not lose control of his voice. “I… believe… we should respond in kind. Greetings, Papyrus. It certainly is a… _pleasure_ to meet you.” Now that his panic response was fading, Silas thought Papyrus did not look much like a skeleton at all. The jaw was fused to the rest of the skull in a way that should have made it impossible for him to speak, the pelvis was too thin compared to his shoulders and was the completely wrong shape to fit into those shorts, and the bones themselves were much too smooth and reflective to be actual bone. Ignoring how none of him should have held together without muscle, the bones themselves were blockier shapes and in a much simpler configuration compared to an actual human skeleton. He looked more like what a first-year art student might create if you asked them to sculpt a skeleton from memory.

Marty laughed, but it was a short one with little breath to it. “Geez, and he’s the third least scary? I’m _really_ curious about what the others will look like.” His tone indicated ‘curious’ was not the word he actually meant.

“I think… he’s only scary because he looks too similar to us,” Susan explained, recovering herself. “It’s called the Uncanny Valley. Basically, he looks similar to someone you might see on the street but very slightly off. Your brain focuses on the differences and rejects them as inhuman. It’s the same thing with clowns or CGI. So I think the rest of them will be okay if they look more like Toriel and Alphys.”

Case in point: the next monster to arrive was heard before she was seen, shouting “I’m neeeext!” before Toriel had even waved her forward. Papyrus hurriedly sidled out of the way while Frisk shouted, “Slow! She said slow!” into the darkness. The unseen owner of the voice responded, “Oh, right!” before stomping into the clearing. Like the others she was humanoid, wearing casual slacks and a black tank top over bluish-green skin which reflected the light oddly. An eyepatch covered her left eye, and her right eye was slit like a cat’s with yellow sclera. She grinned widely, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth, as she looked over each of the humans before focusing her attention on Chad. “I’m Undyne, captain of the Royal Guard! Uh, I mean, I used to be… we were disbanded this afternoon. But it wasn’t ‘cause of anything I did! Anyway, you, big guy! You look pretty tough, how about you and me-”

She was interrupted as Alphys started pulling at her pant leg while placating, “Undyne, we’re j-j-just introducing everyone! You shouldn’t… I mean, please don’t start any fights before everyone arrives…”

Undyne blinked at the lizard and rubbed the back of her head. “Tch… yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I hope you’re all good humans like Frisk! Because if you aren’t, you’ll have to answer to me!” She allowed the lizard to drag her over to the fire while continuing to grin with vague menace. As soon as she looked away Chad sneered for a moment but said nothing. Apparently he didn’t like being singled out.

Silas appended his early assessment; now that she was closer he could tell that was not skin on Undyne, those were scales. He swallowed, thinking of the bucket of fish Chad had stowed nearby. Were they about to cause an trans-species international incident already? He resolved not to think about it. Instead he noticed the fire was starting to get a bit crowded and asked Toriel, “How many of you are there? We’ll make what room we can, but this is starting to push our limits.”

“Just one more,” Toriel said, gesturing behind her with a more curt and forceful motion than the others.

At first Silas thought it was another creature like Toriel. Then he realized it was, and most emphatically was not. Toriel was tall (but then nearly everybody was taller than Silas), but the last of the monsters towered. He must have easily cleared eight feet, not even counting the curved horns on the top of his head. He wore a long cloak which hung down long enough to cover his feet, picking up twigs and debris no matter how small and careful his steps were. Silas felt his vision darken but he managed to stay upright. Chad made no move for his pistol; would it even work against something like this?

“Howdy!” the creature said with a smile. For the third time tonight Silas felt dizzy. Oh, they were having another Papyrus moment so soon. “Thank you for being so open-minded towards us. I am King Asgore, ruler of the monsters. I hope this is the beginning of a long and fruitful dialogue between our races and a new era for all of us.” He allowed a brief pause for any questions or reactions and frowned when silence continued its reign. “Erm… is this a good sign or a bad one?” His tongue darted out of his mouth and curved upward to wet the tip of his nose.

“Omigod…” Susan gasped, cupping her hands over her mouth. The corners of a smile peeked out from behind her fingers. “Did… did you just mlem?”

Asgore blinked. “Did I… what?” He licked his nose again in confusion.

“That! That thing! Hee hee hee!” She spun in place, squealing and giggling. Even her friends were looking at her strangely. “You’re so cu~te!”

“Hey Shu, that’s kinda rude,” Marty said. Then he looked to Asgore for confirmation, “Er, is it?”

“Golly,” the giant said. “I never thought it was notable. I suppose it’s alright if she is enjoying herself.”

Toriel rolled her eyes. “There you go taking things too lightly again…”

“Anyway, our turn, right?” Marty stood up and coughed to bring attention to himself and move the conversation along. “I’m Martin, but that’s a dorky name so call me Marty instead. I’ve lived in this area my whole life, so I know all the best places to eat and all the tourist traps. I’ll help you all get settled in, so treat me nicely.” Ah, there was that shit-eating grin Silas had grown to loathe. If Marty had put that back on he must have found his rhythm again.

Susan stepped up next, walking up to each monster and shaking their hand individually, even Papyrus. Seemed she got over whatever fear she held when she first saw him. “It is soooo nice to meet you all! I can’t believe how awesome it is that you’re such great people! You can call me Susan, everyone does, and I hope you all have a wonderful time on the surface!”

Silas lifted himself out of the chair. He would not show weakness. Yes, he had been taken off-guard, but he was not an invalid! He cleared his throat and said, “I am Silas Pembrooke. Please don’t take my reserved manners to mean I am not as welcoming as Marty and Susan. I look forward to learning more about you all.”

Everyone looked toward the only person who had yet to introduce themself. Chad had to have noticed everyone looking at him but he showed no sign of discomfort. “Chad Nelson,” he said simply before turning his attention toward the fire. That was it? He knew Chad did not like speaking, but Silas had not remembered him being this surly. Had something happened while he was away?

“Well!” Marty said, clapping his hands to move past the awkward moment. “So now the million dollar question: Who. Wants. Weenies?”

* * *

The first step had gone well. They had found adults who were open-minded and friendly, people who would be able to help the monsters more than a child could. Whatever happened next, there was little Frisk could do to change the outcome. It should have felt good to dump the responsibility, but Frisk was still incredibly anxious. There was still a lot that could go wrong, and if the people they found were not as nice as they seemed, or if they were not as competent as they needed to be…

No, don’t think about that. If they did they would start crying and there would be no way to explain it to the people who might understand without letting everyone who did not understand in on all the secrets they were carrying. They could not do this alone. They needed to speak with their confidant.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Frisk said suddenly.

“Don’t go off alone,” the man called Silas said without looking at them. His demeanor was strict and harsh but his face was full of soft curves save for the long nose coming almost to a point. He was kind underneath it all, they could tell. He had the same furrowed brow and narrowed eyes Chara sometimes got when they were mulling over a difficult thought, looking from one of the monsters to another and asking them questions about who they were and what their life was like underground and how all any of it worked. Of all the people here they liked him best with Susan a distant second. “Nobody wants to see you vanish again. Someone else should go with you.”

Frisk made a show of looking everybody over before pointing at Papyrus. “I have been chosen!” Papyrus shouted with a blush. “Never fear, Frisk! I, the Great Papyrus, will make sure no harm comes to you!” They were warned not to stray too far from the fire, as it would be easy to get lost again in the woods at night. Frisk did not need to be told that; it had taken them an embarrassing amount of time to find Mount Ebott in the darkness when they first came here and had no desire to repeat the experience.

Once they were away from the group Frisk looked over to their side and sighed. “Sorry I’ve been quiet,” they said into the empty air. “With so many people around it’s hard to talk to you.”

“I do not find any fault with you,” the ghost replied, strafing to float directly in front of Frisk. “It is only to be expected; most people would not let a child wander unaccompanied and part of our deal was that you would not talk to me when others were around. I suppose I will have to get used to less conversation with you than I have become accustomed to.” The ghost was a human child, a little older than Frisk but not much taller and wearing a green sweater with a single yellow stripe. While their words and tone were friendly their eyes were half-closed and their smile was disarming; someone who did not know them as well as Frisk did would say they looked suspicious and distrustful.

Frisk shook their head. “It’s still not fair.”

“Aha!” Papyrus said. “So this is what you were really after! You did not have human things to do, you had ghost things!”

“That’s right,” Chara said, rolling their eyes. “And that’s why Frisk asked you to come with them. Because you’re one of the few people who can actually see me.”

Frisk tilted their head. “There’s others?”

Chara counted off on their fingers, “Papyrus. Napstablook. Mettaton. I think Undyne’s training dummy and Tsunderplane can, but I’m not a hundred percent sure about them. Oh yeah, and Sans too. I don’t think you were awake for that. Meant to tell you earlier but things got a little weird.”

Papyrus glowered at Chara. “I think he wanted you to keep that a secret.”

“He didn’t ask me to keep quiet about it and he had to assume I was going to tell Frisk at least. Besides, he’s playing way too many cards too close to his chest. If I have the opportunity to spill some of his secrets I’m taking it.” Evidently they were still a little sore about Sans pretending not to be able to see them for so long. “Anyway, this all is going better than I expected, but probably not as well as you’d hoped.”

Frisk frowned. “You thought they’d all get killed when they first met humans.” Chara shrugged and made an “eh” sound to indicate Frisk had guessed more or less correctly. “I’m glad it’s working out.”

“So far. Though we have you to thank for that.”

There was an awkward pause. Usually Frisk would happily suck up any praise offered to them, but Chara had misunderstood something very important. Or rather, they were ignorant about the rules of the game having changed. It caused the adulation to curdle before they could enjoy it, like lemon juice being poured into milk. “Papyrus?” Frisk asked. “You’re still my friend, so can you give Chara and me a minute? I hafta talk to them about… stuff.”

“Private discussions?” Papyrus asked. “No problem! Secrets are the glue that hold friendships together, and you two must be very good friends indeed! I will go out of earshot, so as long as you two keep quiet I will not overhear you. But! I will stay close, so if you need me for anything I will be in easy reach!” With that he retreated about twenty feet, far enough so Frisk and Chara could whisper without him hearing but close enough to make out their shapes even in the darkness.

Chara leaned in closer, guessing what Frisk wanted to talk about without Papyrus there. “So, be honest with me. How many tries did it take you to get those humans to listen?” The fingernails of Frisk’s right hand dug into their palms to leave little crescent moons. “I imagine it wasn’t too many, you wouldn’t have been so nervous if you’d had this conversation a dozen times.”

“Only once.” Frisk licked their lips and drew a shaky breath. “One try… is all we’ll ever get anymore.”

“What do you mean? Why would-” They cut themself off as the full implications of what Frisk just said hit them. “Oh.” Chara rubbed at their forehead. “Oh. _Crap._ ”

Frisk nodded. “I can’t Load, I can’t Save, I can’t even Reset.”

Chara paused. “Reset? I don’t know that one.”

“It’s like…” Frisk opened and closed their fist a couple times as they ran through how they were going to explain this. “If Load means I go back to my Save, a Reset takes me all the way back. I would wake up in the flowers again, and what I had done since then would be gone. It would let me start over. I knew I could do it, but I never did. Part of that was ‘cause… you wouldn’t memember anything. Nothing at all. If I did that we wouldn’t be friends anymore. But now I can’t do anything.”

Chara began rubbing their upside-down-heart shaped locket between their thumb and forefinger. “Okay, okay, this… this is really bad, isn’t it? I was sort of hoping to use that as insurance. That way if anything went wrong we could plan for it, we could mitigate the damage or get ahead of a scandal. But if your powers are gone… then we only have the one chance.”

“We can’t mess up. Not at all. If there’s another war it’s over. I can’t go back and do it again. I’m sorry,” Frisk sniffed. “My powers were the only things I was good for. Without them I’m useless…”

“That is not true!” Chara floated directly in front of their face and said it loud enough to catch Papyrus’ attention. “You might not be eloquent but you’re earnest, and that counts for a lot. You’re good at easing people’s minds, you saw it with that Chad guy. Come on, angst isn’t a good look on you, let me handle that.” They had intended it as a joke but Frisk’s deepening frown convinced them it was not received that way. “You worked really hard to get this far. I think it’s a good thing if there’s less for you to do. Someone once told me I grew up too fast and I owed it to myself to be a kid for a while. I didn’t take the lesson to heart then but I think he was right. I’m not saying I trust these humans because I don’t, but I don’t think it’s wrong to take some of the pressure off yourself.”

Frisk picked off a loose piece of bark from a nearby oak, brow furrowed. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll do what I can, but making peace between monsters and humans… I can’t do much about that. And there’s stuff only we can do. We can’t just ignore it.” They looked up at Chara. “Like Asriel.”

Chara inhaled through their nose. “Yeah. We’re the only people that know about him. We have to save him ourselves, because no one else will do it for us. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, actually. About how to do it. But it’s a tough problem. If I could bring him back just by sacrificing myself I’d do it in a second. I wouldn’t even care that killing myself is what started this whole mess in the first place, which really goes to show I haven’t learned a thing.” They were thinking out loud again, something they had started doing once they realized only Frisk could hear them and Frisk did not judge them for it. “Of course, the last time I gave him my soul worked out _oh so well_ for everyone. Not to mention I don’t have a full soul so it probably wouldn’t be any good. And even if it did, he’d probably reject it.”

Frisk wanted to be mad but forced their expression back to neutral. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“You asked if he would forgive me and he changed the subject rather than give you an answer.”

“That doesn’t-”

“I know him, Frisk. Even after everything he went through he’s still the same boy I spent two wonderful years with. I know what he meant by that. And he has every right to hate me.” Chara’s eyes had become large and completely black, but they were not leaking that sickly-sweet black tar yet. Not very long ago Chara would have chosen to erase themself rather than let Frisk see this. Now they would only turn their face away if they felt Frisk staring at them, choosing not to hide even their darker emotions from Frisk. Frisk knew it was Chara’s way of showing they liked and trusted Frisk; for all their skill at wordplay Chara was reticent concerning how they felt about other people. Which would not be a problem if they were not also bad at showing how they felt, but they were.

“We’ll find a way,” Frisk said with a smile, trying to bring them back to the topic.

Chara, however, shrunk into themself a bit more. “That's the thing. I already have one idea, but you aren’t going to like it. Heck, I don’t like it. I’ve been desperately trying to think of a better plan, but I don’t know much about his soulless condition or souls or absorption. I didn’t even know I would still be me after being absorbed and not just a big battery of magic for Asriel to use. I’m flying blind here. I can only go off what I know, and the only thing I _know_ will work is human souls.” Frisk had a bad feeling about this. Anything to do with souls was risky territory. They took a deep breath and nodded for Chara to go on. “But don’t think about giving him your soul. There are limits to what you can sacrifice for other people. More importantly I don’t think it would work. You told me about the timeline where Flowey absorbed the other six souls. He didn’t turn into Asriel, did he?” Frisk shook their head. “I thought not. That tells me one soul wouldn’t work. Even six souls didn’t work. He only regained his true form when he had power equal to seven. In order to let him live his life as Asriel, we’d need no less than seven human souls.”

“Seven…” Frisk felt a little dizzy. They had not thought about it that far. Seven? Wouldn’t that mean seven people would have to…?

Chara continued, “And remember, those seven souls would all have their owner’s personality and emotions. Those souls could take over Asriel’s body, or simply rebel and abandon him if his control slipped for even a single moment. Do you get it? We couldn’t steal, or lie, or trick anyone out of their souls. The humans would have to know exactly what was going on and accept their role of enabling Asriel’s life and keep him under control. Seven human souls, given willingly and with full knowledge of what that entails.” They looked at Frisk evenly. “We would have to go out into the writhing sea of humanity to find these people. They would have to be compassionate, self-sacrificing, and have a love for monsters just like we do. Seven of the best people we’ve ever known or could ever hope to meet.” They snorted. “And then we’d have to hope they die.”

Frisk hugged themself and shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold. “Is… is that really the only way?”

“You don’t like it either, huh? I suspect things are going to be crazy enough for the next week or so while everyone figures out the first crucial steps to let monsters live on the surface. We would not be able to do anything even if we were inclined to start right away. We have some time and I haven’t better to do. So just enjoy your life, take a load off. I’m sure I’ll think of something else.”

Frisk was not convinced. They were acting without perfect information but Chara’s reasoning made sense. The problem would not solve itself, they were sure; Flowey was not about to spontaneously generate a soul on his own nor was a convenient solution going to appear from the void. If it were easy Flowey would have done it already when he had control of the timeline. That alone told them the way to save Asriel would be hard, maybe much harder than freeing the monsters. But it was something they owed to him. It was the right thing to do. And more important to Frisk than any of that, it was something Chara needed. As long as Asriel remained underground and all alone Chara would never be able to move on or forgive themself. That alone was all the reason they needed.

“I should head back,” Frisk said. “Don’t want people to get worried about me. I’ll talk to you again as soon as I can, okay?” Chara nodded but they continued gazing into the middle distance, rubbing their upside-down heart locket between their thumb and forefinger. “I’ll try to think of something too. It’s not fair for you to do it all by yourself either.” With that they waved to Papyrus and began walking toward him. But Frisk was already thinking not of an alternate plan but how they were going to get and keep seven human souls. It was a big project, likely to take years. But they could not delay forever hoping a better solution would fall into their laps. They would need more of those containers to start with. Maybe Alphys had some or knew how to make them. Then they would have to find good people… once monsters were introduced to the rest of the world that would not be so hard. They doubted people in the area could stay neutral for long, what with magic and souls and everything else the existence of monsters meant. Those who supported monsters would be the good people, the ones who might consider giving up their soul. Then…

By this time Frisk and Papyrus had returned to the campsite. Frisk filched a single small block of chocolate from an opened bar and stuffed it in their mouth. When Chara whirled they flashed their ghost friend a tiny grin. Chara chuckled, knowing exactly what Frisk meant by that. Then Chara thought for a moment and gestured upward. Once they had Frisk’s attention they floated up in the air and spoke, knowing Frisk could not respond. “These stars here,” they pointed to a group, “make up Ursa Major, the great bear. These ones here represent Boötes, the herdsman. Between them is a group of stars that make up Canes Venatici, the hunting dogs. Only two of them are bright enough to be seen this close to the city, though. This one here…” They pointed to a non-descript yellowish light, just barely visible to the naked eye. “… is Beta Canum Venaticorum, but it’s common name is ‘Chara’.” They blushed slightly as they cast a sheepish look down. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but… I never really cared about standing out.”

It was true, without having it pointed out to them Frisk would not have paid the star much mind. So easy to overlook, even though it was trying its hardest. They wanted to ask what drew Chara to that star so much that they took its name for their own, but they were among others now and could not speak freely. They resolved to ask them about it next time. For now they chewed on the little square of chocolate as they stared up into the sky, imagining they felt warmth shining down on them from the twin Charas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, you did not miss an introduction: Sans wasn't there. We'll find out what he's up to next chapter.  
> I know there's going to be disappointment about the Resets going away, especially because a lot of people liked how they were handled in the first story. I think I've done what I could with them in that story. I've noticed from reading other post-game fics that keeping Resets on the surface warps the whole story around them; any story which includes Loads turns into being about Loads. Nothing feels threatening because in the back of their mind the reader knows Frisk will just Load if anything really bad happens. This is not a bad thing, it's just not the story I want to tell. It might have been neat for Frisk to backslide and begin abusing their powers again but for me it's not worth the trade-off. I hope for your understanding.  
> This story takes place in 204X, 31 years after Chara’s death. I’m not going to bother guessing what the United States will look like in thirty years (or the way this presidential administration is going whether there’s even going to be a United States in thirty years), so out of sheer laziness I’m going to assume the world is pretty much the same as it is now. So don’t get too mad at me if you’re reading this thirty years from now and I didn’t predict quantum computers or Skynet or whatever. For this fic Mt. Ebott is part of the White Mountains in western New Hampshire, and just a few miles away is the picturesque city of Weymouth where the majority of this story will take place. While there are some vague hints in the game that Mt. Ebott resides somewhere close to the Greater Boston area, my decision to place it where I did has everything to do with me personally living in the area. See again, laziness.  
> 


	2. A Helping Hand

_The doctor smiled as he entered the examination room. “So!” He clapped and rubbed his hands. “Little Alicia is here for her three week wellness checkup, is she?”_

_Lisa Pembrooke nodded. “A quick in ‘n’ out,” she confirmed. “She’s been a perfect little angel.” Lisa and her husband sat next to each other, her baby Alicia in a onesie and wrapped up in blankets. The child’s eyes were closed and she breathed slowly through her nose and mouth at the same time._

_“Is that so?” the doctor said, reaching for the infant. The baby opened her eyes halfway to look at him with a perfectly neutral expression. As he took Alicia he noted she hung limply in his hands before he set her on the table. “That’s a little odd. Babies tend to get cranky when they’re tired, but she must be so exhausted she can’t even cry. You’ve been giving her plenty of rest, yes?”_

_Reginald squeezed his wife’s shoulder as she explained, “She’s been getting lots of sleep; she’s rarely up for more than thirty minutes at a stretch. A couple times she’s even fallen asleep during feeding.”_

_The pediatrician hummed and his eyes narrowed. He decided to act on a hunch and do an examination out of order. “I’m going to administer a blood oxygen test first. It’s probably nothing but I want to be sure.” He clipped a machine over the infant’s wrist. The child squirmed and gurgled but made no move to remove the offending object. Ten seconds later the data on the screen updated. The pediatrician exhaled through his nose. “One more time,” he promised, switching wrists to repeat the test. The results came back the same. “Well. I don’t mean to alarm you, but today won’t be as simple as you hoped. We’ll have to run some additional tests. We might need to keep her for a few days, maybe even perform surgery depending-”_

_“Surgery?!” Lisa gasped. “But… Why? She’s fine! Alicia’s been doing fine! Why would you need to cut her open?”_

_The pediatrician sighed. “That she appears so normal is a good sign, but just because she seems healthy does not mean she is healthy. A blood-oxygen reading is a measure of how much oxygen is being carried by the red blood cells in her arteries. Typically, we see readings from 95 to 98. Anything below 90 is a cause for concern.” He pointed at the electronic readout and tapped it to call attention to a number. “Alicia’s is 54. I don’t want to alarm you Mrs. Pembrooke, but your daughter is very sick. There are only a few things which could cause this, and all of them are bad.” He took a deep breath. “We will do everything possible, and I have high hopes that we have enough time to turn things around. But you should still prepare yourself for the worst.”_

_Lisa and Reginald studied each other’s faces, each hoping to find comfort in the other. Their hands squeezed together tightly. Alicia lifted her hands over her head and closed her eyes, trying once again to fall asleep, completely unaware of how precarious her life really was._

* * *

Frisk sat on a log Undyne had rolled over before and was staring at their phone in one hand while a campfire weenie on a stick in the other. Someone had wrapped some pre-made croissant dough around Frisk’s hot dog and toasted it in the fire. Frisk lifted their head very slightly and Silas followed their gaze. Most everyone was now seated around the fire in a wide circle. Only Chad and Asgore were standing; Asgore simply because he took up so much room, while Chad hovered behind Susan and Marty to keep all the monsters within his field of vision. No one was paying any attention to Silas or Frisk, situated outside the circle. This was as good of an opportunity as he was going to get. He walked closer to Frisk and called out, “Hey-”

Frisk gasped and hid their phone screen by thumping it against their chest. If their eyes were open no doubt their pupils would be as large as dinner plates. They swallowed once before greeting, “You’re… Mr. Pem-broke.”

The corner of Silas’ lip twitched. “Pem _brooke_ ,” he corrected. He attempted to squat down to face them at eye-level, but the first time he tried to squat with his knees together so he had to straighten up and try again with his knees apart this time. Still working on that. “Wouldn’t you rather be closer to the fire? It’s not that warm out tonight.”

Frisk shook their head. “I don’t… get cold. ‘M fine.” He might have chalked it up to youthful stubbornness if Frisk’s teeth were chattering or they were huddling up on themselves, but they really did seem to be perfectly comfortable despite only having a long-sleeved shirt and shorts. The only sign of stress was the death grip they held on their phone, clutching it to their chest like it was the only thing keeping their heart beating.

If Silas had been more attentive he may have been puzzled at where the child’s food had gone; not just the pig-in-a-blanket but also the stick it had been skewered on had disappeared. But his mind was on other things and he did not think to question how food could disappear in the presence of a child. Silas tapped a finger against his knee, letting the silence linger. “This might be a strange question for me to ask and it’s alright if you don’t have an answer, but what do you want to do now?” The child tilted their head like a collie. “You’ve literally been under a rock the last few days so you probably don’t know. Your foster family… they gave your things back to Child Services like they planned. Their names were kept out of the news, so we couldn’t bring you back if we wanted to. I don’t know if there’s another foster family ready for you or…”

“… or if it’s back to the group home,” Frisk finished with a sigh, their shoulders sagging. They put away their phone with the grace of a trained pickpocket.

Silas craned his neck to look up at the stars. “It isn’t fair, is it?” He did not check if he had gotten Frisk’s attention. “You didn’t ask to be abandoned. I doubt you hated all the foster homes you’ve been in. And the moment everyone knows you’re back you’ll be whisked away again. And from what I could tell none of the locals really stressed themselves out looking for you. Maybe someone will want to adopt you once your story goes public in hopes of getting their fifteen minutes of fame. Maybe they won’t. Someone who adopts you for that isn’t going to have your best interests in mind. It seems like… one thing happened that you had no control of and it defined the rest of your life.”

The child scrunched up their face. Did he lose them? It had been too long since he was a child, he was never sure how much they could and could not understand. After a moment they were able to pick some bit of meaning out of his word jumble: “Am… am I really that pitiful?”

He hurriedly countered, “Pity isn’t that bad. If pity means you can get something you need you shouldn’t hesitate to exploit it. Pride is a luxury.” One he himself indulged in, true, but that did not mean he would not give it up for the right reasons. “I suppose ‘pity’ would be one way to put it. But another part is I know a bit about how little power children have. The way I see it, hearing your story and what you’ve done for these people, you deserve a little bit of a reward. So has anyone ever asked what you want?” Frisk’s head lowered, turned to look at something over their shoulder, then slowly from side to side to indicate a negative. “I’m asking now. What do _you_ want to do, Frisk? If you could have any future, if you could go anywhere and do anything from here, what would you want your life to be like?”

Frisk wrung their hands and pulled their lips back in a not-smile for just a second before letting their face hang slack. It was impossible to tell where the child was looking, which made it difficult for him to tell what they were trying to work themselves up toward. “I…” they started. “I… told Toriel… I want to stay with them. I’d really like that, ‘cause I’ve got nowhere else.” They shook their head. “I’m a little bit stupid but I unnerstand more ‘n people think. So I know I can't. But…” They sunk even lower, their shoulders slumping in defeat. They knew as well as anyone how impossible that was.

An idea came to Silas just then. It was risky, belligerent, and could make him a lot of enemies. There was no guarantee the monsters or Frisk would be willing to go along with it. But it was a way. It could work, and none of them had the time to think of a better plan. He put his hand on the child’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.” Frisk did not respond. They must have heard some variation of those words a hundred times before and seen such vague assurances amount to nothing.

“So wait,” Susan asked, her voice carrying outside the circle. “If you’ve been underground all this time, how did you live? Where did you get food?” A very good question, Silas had to admit.

Asgore smiled. “We grew it by magic.”

“Magic?” Marty asked. “What kind of magic are we talking, here? ‘She turned me into a newt’ magic, ‘Fire, Fira, Firaga’ magic, ‘Watch me pull a rabbit out of a hat’ magic?”

“Erm.” Asgore stroked his beard. “None of those, I think. We have heard that magic has completely died out on the surface, so perhaps it is best if we start at the beginning. Magic is how monsters express ourselves; it’s a part of who we are and how we see the world. Every monster is able to use a little magic, though advanced magic falls into a few distinct categories.”

“Such as?” Silas prompted.

Toriel held out her hand, her eye twinkling mischievously. A tiny flame sprouted from the tip of her finger and she held it aloft for all to see. Susan “oooh!”ed appreciatively but Silas was more skeptical. It was possible to make a flame appear to come out of nowhere with a hidden lighter or gas line, though personally Silas would not have risked an open flame near all that fur. Toriel explained, “Fire magic is one of the basic types of magic. Most monsters are able to learn at least a little of it for light, heat, and cooking. Boss Monsters such as myself and Asgore, however… You shouldn’t stare at this too closely,” she warned just in time. The flame exploded upward, forming a pillar of flame six feet high and covering her entire hand at the base. The humans all swore and leaned backward, their pupils shrinking from the new source of light. Toriel held up a marshmallow in her other hand and plunged it directly into the heart of the flame for several seconds. Then she closed her hand to put out the fire, displaying the marshmallow which had been toasted a faint golden-brown. “I assure you my hand is completely unharmed. I can control the heat precisely, burning or cooking only what I wish no matter the strength of the flame. You could put your own hand inside and not feel a thing.”

“So how hot can it get?” Chad asked suspiciously. “And how far away can you set these fires?”

“Hot enough to burn,” Toriel confirmed as she stuck the marshmallow on the end of Marty’s offered stick. “As for range… are you asking how effectively it can be used as a weapon? Magic is not very good at that, especially against humans. A monster can only use magic within their magic field. A magic field is what allows our bodies to maintain their shape, though it can be expanded over an area for a limited length of time without hurting us. Even a very strong practitioner can only extend their field a few body lengths. Furthermore, human bodies are very resistant to magic. We cannot change you into anything else, and to do permanent damage your soul would need to take a direct hit.”

“Wait a sec,” Marty said, putting his hands up to form a “T”. “Soul?”

She evaluated her choices among the monsters. After a moment she nodded toward the skeleton. “Papyrus, would you like to demonstrate? Extend your field over me.”

The skeleton hopped up from the ground and saluted smartly. “Right-o, Ms. Former Queen!”

Before anyone could ask about that form of address a white upside-down heart appeared in the middle of Toriel’s chest and stole the humans’ breath away. “This is my soul,” Toriel explained. “Monsters and humans all have one, though human souls point in the opposite direction. As you can see, the soul appears when a monster expands their magic field and catches another person’s body inside it. A magic field cannot be seen but it can be felt, so you will always have warning before any kind of magic is used on you. So please be at ease; you have little to fear from our magic.” Chad’s scowl did not budge, but his shoulders relaxed noticeably.

“I want it.” Everyone turned to look as Susan. Her hands reached out and grasped at the air between her and Toriel and she whined, “I wanna do that. Teach me how to do magic, please! Or… don’t tell me… humans can’t?”

“I am given to understand the practice of magic and all its related knowledge long ago passed out of human hands. However, we know humans once had magic; there should be no reason they cannot have it again. So on the way here we discussed this and decided that will be our offer: all the information we have about magic, and our full cooperation to any and all attempts for humans to regain it. In return, all we ask is that we be allowed to live peacefully on the surface.”

Silas picked apart the words, finding more meaning in the individual sentence fragments than Toriel probably intended. “Given to understand” - humans losing magic was told to the monsters by someone, not the result of their own research. “On the way here” - they did not have a plan, everything was being made up as they went along. “Allowed to live peacefully” - they had reason to believe they would not be welcomed with open arms. He considered the story the monsters told about being locked underground for generations. He thought about Frisk. “In that case, I want to offer my assistance.” He gestured vaguely to indicate the area around him. “To ease you in to the surface world and make sure you receive a warm welcome from my fellow humans. I have little to offer besides my expertise and a place to stay while you hammer things out, but I offer them gladly.”

Toriel clenched her paws into fists but was smiling. “If you’re sure… I believe that would be a tremendous help. Thank you, Silas.”

A large hand clapped Silas on the shoulder. “Buddy, pal, chum. Can we talk for a sec?” Chad’s crushing grip on his shoulder made it clear this was no polite request. Silas held up an index finger to Toriel, indicating ‘give us a minute’ and stood. Marty and Susan followed Silas and Chad away from the fire. They were just barely out of earshot before Chad leaned deep into Silas’ personal space to whisper through clenched teeth, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Offering help to people in need,” he responded coolly. “Is that a problem?”

The question seemed to take Chad aback. The fire in his eyes momentarily faltered as he tried to explain, “All we have to go on is their word. Have you really thought about their story? A magic barrier locking them underground, magic, you really buy all that?”

Susan lifted up her shoulders in a helpless shrug but her eyes were alight. “It’s so outlandish it has to be true. Truth is stranger than fiction, right? I think they’re awesome, you’re awesome, everything about this is awesome! I am totally on board!”

Marty’s eyes swung on a pendulum from Susan to Chad and back again. Finally he shrugged. “You know what? The hell with it, count me in. This sounds a lot more interesting than a campout anyway.” If Susan was hurt at her camping idea being swept aside so easily the thrill of helping a new species integrate with humanity more than washed it away.

Chad scowled on seeing he was outnumbered. “So what’s your plan, anyway?”

“Hard to say without knowing what we’re working with. One area in particular they need help with is the kid. Frisk wants to stay with them and I think I know a way to make it happen. Can I count on you to get a few things done for me?”

Chad crossed his arms. “Why? What are you planning?”

Silas straightened himself, attempting to project a confidence and decisiveness he did not truly feel. “I plan on becoming a foster parent for Frisk.”

All three of his friends sucked in air and leaned back. “Jesus,” was all Chad said as he wiped his face with his hand.

“No really, it’s perfect. You saw the same news reports, right? They’re a foundling, bounced around from one home to another. Supposedly they attacked another kid in their class but look at them: they’ve barely made a peep since they showed up. They want to stay with the monsters, but without help that won’t happen. So I take over as their foster parent. The government is too overworked as it is to care about the details as long as they aren’t being abused, and after this stunt of theirs no one is going to try to adopt Frisk before we can get the monsters’ legal situation sorted out. Then the monsters adopt them and everyone gets a happy ending. It’s the right thing to do.” Saying it out loud convinced him it was.

Marty whistled, scratching at his goatee. “Not for nothing, but I always thought you hated kids.”

Silas considered that. Was that the impression he gave off? “I don’t think I can have a kid myself and wouldn’t even if I could, but I don’t have anything against children in general or Frisk in particular. They aren’t a bad kid. But the system is failing them. I happen to have the resources and ingenuity to help them, so I will.”

“And it’s just that simple for you, huh?” Chad rubbed the back of his head and stared into the darkness. “Alright, alright, we’ll get them set up at your place in the morning. We should probably be out of here before they do the morning check, we only paid for four people and now we’ve got ten. Besides, our food reserves are completely spent.”

Silas nodded. “Good call. We’ll need to get another car, probably a van or sport utility vehicle. Asgore isn’t going to fit comfortably in anything but we’ll need something large for him to fit at all. That means we should all start winding down and get some sleep.”

* * *

Once everyone had gotten settled down the night passed uneventfully. The monsters elected to sleep under the stars, and Marty joined them after giving up his pup tent to Frisk. Silas could not really blame them; after so long without seeing the open sky they would not be in any hurry to say goodbye to it again. After only five hours of sleep Silas was awakened when Chad shook his tent. The two of them had to go all the way to the airport to rent a car so early in the morning, so it was almost dawn by the time they returned. From there they broke camp, a speedy task with so many hands to help, and were gone before the campgrounds opened for the day. Their deposit was lost, but that was the way it had to be.

Cities and towns in New Hampshire were generally not designed by a planner or committee; early settlers staked their claims where they felt like it and barring massive fires the same topography persisted through generations. The result was a mish-mash of curvy streets, haphazard zoning, contrivances like the jug handle and the rotary to put too many cars on too-thin roads, and a hundred other absurdities which would make a cartographer throw up their hands. Trees grew in a dense forest on each side of the road. Driveways cut into the woods, serving as lifelines to the houses set twenty or thirty feet back from the street. Even though it was a residential area it would not be possible to look through the foliage and see any of your neighbors from within one of these homes. The leaves were a couple weeks from their peak but still plenty impressive, and with warm days and crisp cool nights the color of the leaves popped. The trees were a rich tapestry of deep reds and vibrant yellows and a range of all the oranges in between. Asgore started weeping at the sight of them, while Alphys took photos with her cell phone and Undyne simply gaped with an open mouthed grin. “It’s like the trees are exploding,” she said in awe.

“They’re really something, aren’t they?” Silas grinned despite himself. “I picked a good time to come back to New England. They haven’t peaked yet, but they will soon. We have only a month and a half or so left of this. Pretty soon the leaves will fall off and then the trees will be a lot less interesting to look at.”

“Oh!” Susan added. “But then we get snow and ice storms in winter. They’re beautiful too, like a landscape from another world!”

“No kidding!” Undyne said, marveling. “Ice storms! Sounds dangerous. Man, I think I am really going to like it here!” Alphys made a quiet distressed sound. Was she cold blooded? She was a lizard, but… Silas put the question aside. It would be dangerous to make any assumptions about their biology.

Asgore wiped his eyes. “I… had forgotten how much I missed this. The trees, the colors, the air. To think, I had given up on ever seeing this again.”

Silas blinked. “How long did you say you were trapped underground for?”

“A thousand years, give or take. We stopped keeping exact count some time ago.”

So why did he sound like he was remembering a personal memory? The implication was too horrible to contemplate. Instead he focused on the road as they broke the treeline and faced the city proper. A sea of one-story buildings rose and crested like ocean waves frozen in mid-swell, following the natural contour of the hills. In the distance one could see the skyscrapers of the central business district, rising high above the trees and stores in their shadows. And further still on the plateaus one could see the yellow fields of the golden flowers behind chain link fences and razor wire.

Perhaps Silas should have been proud. This was his hometown after all and he was showing guests around. He felt it would have been appropriate to present it in grandiose terms. Weymouth! The city that tea built! But despite living here for the first 18 years of his life he held no special feelings, positive or negative, for this place. Weymouth was not large enough to have its own identity like Boston or New York, but it was too large to get away with describing it as “a simple New England town”. Something should have been said, but nothing could be said. Silas simply continued driving, allowing the city to speak for itself.

* * *

Sans lay on his bed, forearm over his eyes. His body sunk into a depression formed by leaving a boulder of dirty laundry on his bed for weeks. A number of papers were strewn about him on the bed. He had not moved in… would it have been three hours now? Maybe four. Or maybe negative forty? He was unsure how one would even track that or whether there was a point. Probably not.

He picked up one of the papers and held it over his head to read it. The papers showed what appeared to be line graphs, each with a number of lines which branched off at several points. These branches would continue on for a time before the line would loop back around to return to the point of separation. Sans likened it the journey of a traveler who, shortly after realizing they had taken a wrong turn at a fork in the road, doubled back to continue down the other path. There were only a handful of people who could make any sense out of what these papers showed and he could count the number of people who fully understood it on one finger. It was a readout of the time-space continuum, an abstract representation of every possibility. At this level of detail he could only see the direction and magnitude of each individual timeline, not what they contained or what happened within them. He knew better than to try looking any closer. Wing Din Gaster had shown him the dangers of uncorking that particular genie’s bottle. Preceding these paths was always something much more concerning: a single instant in time where a timeline, very far along, would zip all the way back instead of to the most recent branching point. From these points not one or two but several different pathways poked out from that single moment, most leading to those branches but a single one continuing farther and farther along, unimpeded and unstoppable until the next ‘nexus point’ as he called them. The earliest instance of these gnarled paths occurred about 27 years ago, more or less, and the most recent one was three days ago. He theorized each one to be the arrival of a new human to the underground, with two key exceptions. The first was that this phenomenon did not occur with Chara; whatever power allowed humans to travel through time Chara was the only one who either never had it or never used it. The second exception was about six months ago, where a new nexus formed but with no human to cause it. Was it a human who somehow got lost or blended in? Or did it have something to do with that flower that showed up at the barrier room?

He flicked the paper over to the side. Too much to think about. He grabbed at another sheet, the same one he always came back to lately. He looked over the printout again and again, each time willing it to show him something different. The sheet he was looking at was a complete mess of lines and loops, hundreds of pathways jutting out from a single instant in time. This nexus was three days ago, about the time he estimated Frisk arrived in the Underground. A few things stood out that was different from the others. There was one timeline which ended abruptly. It did not jump backward or loop or trail off, it simply ended. By his reckoning this would have happened yesterday; not this timeline, then. He did not have to think about what it meant, which was good because it gave him the willies. There was another which stretched on and on, all the way to the edge of perception. The one way out. In between were hundreds if not thousands of timelines which looped back to the nexus point, and of those nearly all of them were completed after the destruction of the barrier. Meaning the controller of the timeline, which he now knew was Frisk, decided to return to the point where they fell after having freed the monsters. And then there was the final realization, the one which had made him turn on his heel and walk right back underground: of these timelines, more than half looped back after a mere three days.

He was not very good at calculating odds and percentages, but from his way of thinking the chances he was in that one lone escape timeline were very small and the chances he was in one of the ones which wouldn’t last a week were very high. He double-checked the figures to confirm something. In just the last ten minutes he had been pondering all this, the world had passed through forty three jumps backward.

He crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it across the room, not even caring enough to see whether it made it into the wastebasket (it did not, falling a half a foot short). At any moment, all of this would be gone. He would be in this room, the barrier would be back in place, and no one would have ever heard of Frisk. He had tested ways to retain his memories through the last nexus, but he failed. No matter what he was only able to remember the barest ghostly fragments of an alternate history, vague recollections that he had been somewhere or seen something before. He had not gotten that with Frisk, which suggested this timeline was the first. Someday, somehow, it was all going to be reset. Everyone would be back underground without any memory of it.

Why? What was the kid hoping to find? Part of him wanted to wrap his phalanges around Frisk’s throat and squeeze until answers came shooting out their mouth, but for all he knew that was a trigger for starting over. The more he struggled to find some way of stopping this the closer the noose tightened. Any potential action or lack of action could be the trigger that ended everything. It was like trying to find your way through a maze, except every time you took a wrong turn you had to start over without any markers or memory of what path you took, only the knowledge that countless other yous in countless times and places had failed to navigate the maze properly. So he did what he always did: nothing. If either action or inaction was wrong, why struggle so hard? Better to just give up.

It would be easier if he could talk to those kids honestly. Lay everything out, every point of data and every wacky theory and hypothesis he had made since the sixth human first alerted him and Dr. Gaster to the existence of the anomalies. Maybe, if they combined their knowledge-

_A rift in time and space. Red eyes. A joyless smile. 963._

\- no, he could not do that. He could never trust Frisk, not fully, not ever. But if that was the case, then what could he do?

He could feel his last point of HoPe flickering. Go away. Go away you vile thing! If he could just let it drop, if he could just Fall Down, it would be so much easier. But that decision was out of his hands, wasn’t it? The last decision he would ever make was to believe Frisk meant well. He still did not know why he did it; all these resets proved the kid could not be trusted, and that was before taking the accident into account. But he had a promise to keep, and the kid asked for his support, and that was that. He was too damn soft.

Sans rolled over and closed his eyes. Two more days. If whatever caused Frisk to reset could hold off for two days, if he got through the worst of the series of resets, then maybe he could trust this timeline enough to leave the Underground.


	3. These Aren't Costumes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, and no part of this fic should be taken as legal advice. In the event that you are arguing for the legal rights of a group of sentient non-humans attempting to join human society, following the opinions and interpretations of US law in this fic are completely at your own risk and I am in no way liable for any damages caused to you or your clients.

They drove up into a plaza with long brick buildings along the side of the road. Each building had a set of doors on both sides, each leading to a different person’s abode while still granting privacy and a small garage to each resident. Chad drove Silas’ sedan into the garage first to let Toriel and Papyrus out, then reversed to make room for Silas’ behemoth of a vehicle. It was important to keep the monsters from being seen out in the open; monsters would need to control their debut as precisely as possible, and if their pictures ended up in the tabloids or on the internet before they were ready it would be impossible to predict the public’s reaction. As Silas turned off the truck and stepped out he explained, “This is my father’s condominium. He’s letting me stay here while I pick myself back up. The agreement was, I would get a job in my field, pay rent, keep my head down, and stay out of trouble. That last one’s probably not gonna happen.” He twirled his key around his finger as he said the last part in a sing-song tone. “It might be a bit small for everyone, but if we’re clever with the arrangement of pillows and blankets there should be enough room to sleep for a few nights. Let’s see… Undyne or Papyrus, you can-”

“Don’t worry about me!” the skeleton interrupted. “I don’t sleep!”

Undyne agreed, “No, he really doesn’t. Ever.”

He unlocked the front door without dignifying that with a response. The interior of the condo was open concept, with only a change from carpet to tile marking where the living room ended and the kitchen began. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, the surfaces clear of dust, and the bookshelf organized by media alphabetically. It looked like a movie set or a hotel room, not somewhere people actually lived. A couch and a recliner faced the 48” television, everyone else would either have to take chairs from around the dining table or remain standing. “Make yourselves at home. I’m going upstairs to change, when I get back we can have breakfast then get down to business.” Frisk made a beeline for the couch and flopped into the cushions face-first, snatching the remote control and clutching it to their chest. Dibs had been called. Susan joined them on the couch, giggling. Papyrus was drawn like a moth towards the shelf with board games stacked on top, while Alphys sidled towards the computer while trying to look nonchalant. Toriel and Undyne both headed for the kitchen and Asgore simply stood in the living room, sizing up the chair and quickly deciding he would never fit in it. Satisfied nobody would destroy anything while he was gone, Silas went upstairs to his bedroom.

He locked his bedroom door before peeling off his clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He washed his face, put fresh deodorant under his armpits, then started getting dressed like he was going to spend a day at the office: underwear, ankle-length argyle socks, binder, undershirt, white button-down shirt, belt, tie in a traditional half-Windsor knot, suit coat with slacks, and cufflinks to complete the look. He took a comb through his hair a few times to knock out any loose dust, debris, or twigs and to get his part right. Ah, that was much better. A well-tailored suit was like a second skin; he looked more like himself now then ever. Now if only he could grow that beard… well, sometimes you had to take what you could get. He took one last look in the mirror and smoothed out a wrinkle near his left shoulder before returning downstairs.

When he arrived Frisk was watching a cartoon on the television, though they were at least upright now. Asgore sat next to them in bright-eyed fascination. “So this is television,” he marveled. “Remarkable!” Susan had given up her place on the couch for him and taken the recliner instead.

Silas could not stop himself before he asked, “You don’t have television in the Underground?” Stupid stupid stupid, obviously they would not be able to receive a television signal underneath several meters of solid rock.

“We do,” Undyne hedged. “But Asgore never owned one. And we didn’t have stuff like this on normal television, just a variety show by Mettaton. I mean, anime and other human history stuff sometimes washes up from the Dump but it doesn’t get beamed to everyone’s TV.” She looked him up and down and whistled. “Wow, you clean up nice!”

Asgore was either old-fashioned or kept too busy to watch TV. There was a monster television star named “Mettaton”, implying there was a sizable television viewing audience as well as some semblance of an infrastructure to support it. Undyne lumped “anime” in as part of “human history”… he boggled at that one and decided he really did not want to think through the implications of it. “I thought you went to go make breakfast,” he asked her instead.

Undyne growled, “Toriel pulled rank and kicked me out. Which is bullsh-” She was interrupted by a polite but firm “Ah ah ah!” coming from the kitchen. Frisk continued to face the television and pretended not to notice Undyne almost swore in front of them. “I mean, it’s totally unfair. All I did was say human technology can’t be that great, I mean your ovens only go up to 500 degrees! How do you cook anything?”

“Slowly and with great patience,” he said in a deadpan.

“You said it!”

“Breakfast will be ready shortly!” Toriel called from the kitchen. “I hope you do not mind me using what was available. I am cooking some of these sausages as well as eggs and bacon. I was also going to make pancakes, but I think everyone is hungry enough that they don’t want to wait for me to mix everything together.”

“Sounds delectable,” he agreed.

Not much later breakfast was served. The monsters (minus Toriel) were eating in the living room while the humans (minus Frisk) were seated around a small dining table. Toriel ate standing up in the kitchen while Frisk sat crosslegged on the living room floor, their back against the back of the couch.

Silas used the side of his fork to cut off a slice of over-hard egg and popped it into his mouth. He could tell immediately that something was wrong. As he chewed he could feel the bite get smaller and smaller in his mouth, and when he went to swallow it disappeared halfway down his throat. He glanced around the table. His friends were looking at him and at each other with wide eyes and somber faces. He must have looked the same to them. Susan broke the silence: “What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” Toriel asked. “Why are you making such frightful faces? Did I make a mistake in cooking…?”

“Not a mistake, _per se_ ,” Silas assured her, though his expression was still grave. “It’s… the food you made. It began dissolving as soon as it was in my mouth. I’m sure it never hit my stomach, either. It’s just like…”

“Like golden flower tea,” Chad finished for him, his expression thoughtful.

Asgore started. “Golden flower…?”

Silas explained, “A few decades ago someone found out a flower that only grows around here has unique properties when dried and boiled. The tea tastes fine enough, but it also dissipates shortly after being swallowed and provides a burst of energy quite unlike anything else. No one has figured why it does this, but the demand for it is incredible. It transformed Weymouth from a common town to a bustling city nearly overnight.”

Alphys broke the yolk of her eggs and stirred it around with her fork. “Th-then… the flower must be partially magic if tea made from its leaves acts like monster food even on the surface.”

“Monster food?” Marty asked, looking at the sausage and bacon dubiously. “You mean…?”

“E-exposure to magic either in the growing or cooking process turns regular food into monster food,” Alphys explained, continuing to stare at her plate. “Rather than being digested, as soon as it enters the body it breaks down immediately into energy and nutrients and is absorbed directly. The body sends the energy to where it is most needed, which is where the food’s regenerative effects come from. A-Anecdotal evidence suggests there’s no negative effects even over a period of months or years.”

Silas would have appreciated the warning before putting it in his mouth, but in the end no harm done. As he chewed he realized that was the first time Silas heard Alphys string more than a couple words together. She must be one of those people who would rather not talk unless it was about one of their areas of expertise. He cut a sausage link in half with his fork and speared it, continuing to eat while his mind worked. An explanation for how golden flower tea worked was useful, but an entire line of food which had the same effects as the tea could open up an entirely new industry completely dependent on monsters. Winning over hearts and minds was one thing, but that was vulnerable to shifting allegiances or bad press. When the world needs a product only you can offer it is much harder for them to cut you out. It could also be done quickly if they could prove it was the same kind of effect as golden flower tea; the tea had passed all the health and safety testing years ago, so monster food could piggyback off that work. Still, the tea moguls of Weymouth would have many complaints to register. They would not appreciate their business being stolen out from under them. Why settle for tea when your entire diet could consist of-

His fork scratched against his empty plate. He blinked out of his reverie to notice his breakfast was gone. That was odd, he did not think he was eating that fast. Or had he really been that out of sorts? Now that he thought of it, he had been forced to awaken early. And there was still so much to do. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Privacy was impossible when so many were in such close proximity so this meeting could not be as secret as he liked. But he, Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk could barely fit around the small kitchen table and that was the only remotely professional seating arrangement he could make while being out of everyone else’s way. Papyrus had taken command of the television and switched it to a local news station, furiously writing notes in ALL CAPS on a spare notebook. Undyne, Marty, and Chad were busy cleaning out the study while Susan supervised; Silas had given her special instruction to watch the fish-woman closely and not to let her do any damage to the property. Alphys typed away on the computer nestled off in a corner of the living room, oblivious to the outside world. That covered everyone. All right, on to business then. He had put this off for long enough. “We need to set some immediate goals and expectations. Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you how realistic it is. It might take weeks or months to work everything out, but if we lay out the basics first it will form a road map for the process. But first…” He gestured with his chin to the eight-year old sitting to his right. “We have to talk about the kid.”

“About Frisk?” Toriel asked worriedly. The child paled but said nothing. They knew what was coming, they must have eavesdropped in on conversations like this many times before. “Why must we?”

“I can tell you care about them and would like to keep them close to you. I asked them last night and they share that feeling. But here’s the problem. Frisk is a foster child, meaning they have no parents of their own. Instead they are given over to volunteers to assist in raising them, sometimes for several years but usually for much shorter periods of time. During this time a family could formally adopt them as their own child after going through a lengthy approval process.”

Toriel nodded, finally grasping the solution and wondering why Silas was being so serious. “Then we would like to adopt Frisk.”

He ruthlessly cut her down: “Not happening. Even if you were human a single mother would have a tough time convincing Child Services they can adequately care for a child. You aren’t officially recognized as citizens so even that option is closed to you. I’m… going to be frank. It is not up to us, and not up to the child, what happens to them once we come forward with them. If the government wants to ship them upstate they’ll be gone and there would be nothing we could do about it. And we do have to let the state know they are no longer missing; if we hold onto them without reporting them we may get charged with kidnapping.” He paused to let that sink in then turned to the child. “But. There is a rather unorthodox method I could use, if you trust me. It’s not something most people would think of, and for good reason.”

Toriel’s eyes narrowed. “I should hope you are not asking us to do anything illegal.”

“No, not illegal, but not exactly above-board either. More like quasi-legal. New Hampshire law requires any foster parent have a room set aside just for the child; to that end I want to clean out my study and send Marty and Chad to pick up a bedframe, mattress, and a dresser. I’ll convert the study into a bedroom for Frisk and become their temporary foster parent. Once you’re in a position to adopt them we can do that. But to pull it off we need to move fast and we’ll need the governor’s help to streamline the process. I’ll use my father’s connections to discuss things with him personally regarding Frisk and your people’s integration. You let me do the talking, that way if anything goes wrong I’ll get the blame for it, not you. I won’t say anything to restrict your options in the future if I can avoid it, which is why we need to discuss your broad goals as well. I don’t plan on becoming the face of monster-human relations and wouldn’t take the job if you offered it, but I will see this through. For Frisk’s sake if nothing else.”

Asgore’s eyes shone with barely restrained tears. “You would do this much for us?” There was no trace of doubt, only a forlorn hope. Frisk was looking at him slack-jawed, the corners of their mouth twitching as if ready to smile but still not daring to believe in it.

Silas inhaled through his nose once, slowly, then nodded. “I would have tried something with Frisk even if you weren’t involved. Call it sympathy for hard-luck cases.” It was a good deal more complicated than that but there was no need to go into details at the moment. “Your appearance just so happens to give me some extra leverage I can use to make it happen.”

He then outlined his plan. It was somewhat risky, but Silas had a high level of confidence in it. Asgore was clearly taken aback. “Why must we go in such a roundabout way? Surely if we explained the situation to your governor and appealed to his kindness and love for his people he will surely do what is right for Frisk.”

It would be adorable if it were not so maddeningly naive. “With all due respect, in a democratic republic nobody ends up in a position of power because of their love for the people. They get it because they want the power, fight for it, and win it from others who want it just as badly as they do. If we want the governor to do us a favor we have to make him see why it’s in his best interests to play ball.”

“Well,” Asgore said. “Perhaps there is another solution. We have been a sovereign kingdom for well over a thousand years. Wouldn’t it be possible for Frisk to become a citizen of the Kingdom of Monsters and bypass all this?”

“That’s not going to happen either.” Silas looked Asgore in the eye. “In theory all it takes is a permanent population, a unified government, and defined territory to declare sovereignty. In practice it requires you to be recognized by the United Nations or you won’t be able to enter diplomatic negotiations with other sovereign nations. You have no political allies in the world of humans, and the land you are trying to claim as part of your new nation already belongs to a nation with veto power over the decisions of the other 200. It would be an undertaking of decades, and if you don’t want Frisk to disappear back into the system you have maybe a couple days to snag them by hook or by crook. Otherwise the first exposure to your ‘kingdom’ the humans will get is that you’ve kidnapped a child. The only way to secure them in any reasonable timeframe is to use monster citizenship as a bargaining chip, and that requires forfeiting your kingdom. Your title or the child, which is it going to be your majesty?”

No hesitation: “If my crown is the weregild for Frisk I pay it gladly.”

Silas nodded. “Good. Because I made it sound like a choice but you actually don’t have one. If you insisted on remaining the Kingdom of Monsters there was an inside chance the United States government would consider you an invading force. Instead we’re going to frame you and your people as a kind of domestic refugee. That will make things easier in the short term, but it will mean a delay as the state and federal governments play hot potato with your legal rights. We have legal means to ensure you get your rights eventually, but we’ll have to deal with that as it comes.” He looked around the table to see determined faces staring back at him… but not from the child themself. Frisk kept their head down, kneading their hands together nervously. Had Silas done something to upset them?

“Hey Silas!” Susan poked her head into the dining room. “We’re done emptying out your study. So can I borrow that huge truck? I wanna go check out their home in the mountain. Undyne’s gonna come with, we’ll be gone most of the day I think. Might not be back until tomorrow.”

Silas stared at her face and frowned. He held up a finger and asked, “Toriel, Asgore. Can you give me a moment?” He stood up without waiting for the Boss Monsters to acquiesce and took Susan around the corner. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As soon as he was out of sight of the monsters he whispered, “What are you doing? You met Undyne just yesterday and she’s already about to take you home? Even you don’t move this fast.”

Susan laughed, not even trying to regulate her volume. “It’s not like that, silly! I just want to know more about them. I mean, isn’t this interesting? It’s like meeting aliens but a thousand times better because they’ve been here all along, literally right under our feet! I want to, you know, ‘strike while the iron’s hot’! There’s so much we need to catch up on so it makes sense to split up and approach from different angles, you know?”

He had to admit she had a point, but once again she was not considering all the facets of the situation. “I know I can’t change your mind but I’m going to warn you about one thing: don’t give your heart to them.”

She blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes flashed a warning. “You know how you get.”

Despite his tone she brushed off his concern with a laugh. “C’mon Sai, I just told you it’s not like that.”

When had she started calling him ‘Sai’? Later, deal with it later. “They’re hiding something. I don’t know what it is yet but it’s something bad. No matter how vile it is I can put my personal feelings aside and continue to advocate for them, but I know you and it will tear you up inside to even think about that choice, let alone make it.” He exhaled, his eyes pleading. “Try to control yourself. I don’t want you to fall in love with their good side only to get hurt when you see their bad side. Or worse, watch you fall into utter denial about their bad side while they take advantage of you.”

Susan crossed her arms and her smile thinned. “Yeah, you know what? I’m not gonna let that slide. _You’re_ telling _me_ not to get attached? You’re ready to foster a kid for them!”

Damn, she had him there. “I am… I’m not doing that for them, necessarily. Frisk has been through a lot and deserves a good home. If they want to stay with the monsters and I have a way to do that I should oblige them. I imagine the monsters will do most of the work raising them and I’m just temporarily handling the legal side of things. I’m giving the child the home they want with the people they want, isn’t that what’s important? As long as we keep our noses clean and the kid stays happy there won’t be a problem.”

It sounded like a good argument to him but Susan’s lips curled downward and she shook her head. “I know you think you’re doing something kind. But the way you said that… it gives me a really bad feeling.” She turned as if she could see through the wall and stare into the back of Frisk’s head. “That kid needs love. They need stability. It won’t matter to them that it’s some legal maneuver, if you’re their foster parent it can’t be in name only. In their eyes you’ll be their guardian for however long it takes. You can’t pretend it doesn’t mean anything. And you can’t disappear from their life even after Toriel and Asgore have adopted them, especially if you’re going to keep working with the monsters. I know it seems like such a small thing to you compared to what your goal is, but think about how they’ll feel. Please, don’t do that to them.”

There she went again, letting sentimentality get in the way of practical solutions. “You’re overreacting. They’re a smart kid, they’ll know not to depend on me. Besides, most foster parents do simply vanish from the child’s life after they got adopted, right? I don’t see why they should get so attached to me.” She did not immediately respond, exhaling a shaky breath through her nostrils. “As far as borrowing the truck goes, I don’t know when the other two are coming back with the SUV and I’ll need it to transport Toriel and Asgore when it comes time to meet the governor. Take my sedan instead.” He held out the keys and Susan eyed them for a moment before snatching them from his hand.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. I really do.” Cheeriness and volume returned to her voice as she called out, “I got ‘em, Undyne. Let’s roll!” She disappeared down the hall and towards the scream of _“YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAH!”_ which cut through the thin walls.

Silas took a moment to recollect his thoughts and straighten his coat. Now, where were they? He returned to the dining table where the Boss Monsters were pretending they had not been eavesdropping. Or maybe they actually hadn’t been? Their faces, smiling innocently, were a little harder to read than a human face. Or at least a typical human face; Frisk’s blank expression and closed eyes were an outlier. “So, adoption. What I have in mind will not be a perfect solution. You will need to go through the process to adopt Frisk as soon as you have the right to apply, and it could take anywhere from 10 to 30 days. By that time you will have enough of a public rapport with me and I will have enough experience with Frisk that if I endorse the adoption it will go through. Until then, the only thing we’ll have to worry about is if their biological parents show up and try to claim them.”

Toriel stiffened. “Can they do that?”

“They can if they dare. They abandoned Frisk at birth, that’s a crime. And since they did not claim them within 90 days of leaving them at the hospital they surrendered their parental rights.” Silas folded his hands together and frowned. “My specialty is criminal and not family law, but… I’m not going to sugarcoat this. In practice, outside of gross abuse or negligence courts almost always side with the biological parents in any custody disputes if they show even a modicum of contrition, especially if the alternative is to leave the child in foster care. I do not know of any legal way to keep Frisk away from their biological parents if they show up and no way to hide them. An eight year old child with Frisk’s complexion and red eyes who was on local news recently will not be difficult to find if anyone is looking. Our best hope is that they are out of the picture; if they are dead, have left the area, or they have not reconsidered their actions that would be ideal for us. Regardless of how certain their ability to reclaim the child would be, they would also suffer the social stigma of being known as parents who abandoned their child. Even if they wished to reclaim them they may be too frightened to. Nonetheless, it is a risk.”

Asgore and Toriel shared a look. “… I see,” Asgore said finally. “In that case, we will trust to luck.”

Silas nodded. “Alright. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s discuss your plan for moving to the surface. It will be difficult to find enough space to rent, so you may have to build your own homes. You will need to purchase the land around the mountain and hire additional help for construction and moving. At the very least you’ll need a professional on zoning laws and building codes to build domiciles that will pass inspection. I assume the, er, Kingdom of Monsters does not use US currency?”

Asgore shook his head and reached into his robe. “Not many of your coins fall down into the dump. I suspect the grand total of all the legal tender in the entire kingdom amounts to a few hundred cents and maybe three of your dollars. For several hundred years the kingdom has used these for money.” He produced a yellow coin and placed it on the table with a clink. The side facing up had a view of Asgore in profile and no letters, and the sides were ridged. It looked like it belonged in a child’s playset.

Silas exhaled and reached for the coin to inspect it closer. “I suspected as much. Here on the surface they are probably only worth the value of the base-” He stopped when he picked it up, testing the weight in his hands. It was heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. He peered at the coin closer, noticing the glint of the light off the smooth surface. Could it be…? He bit into the coin with his canines and inspected the dimples his teeth left. “You… you’re serious. You use this for money?”

Asgore nodded. “We could not find many other uses for it; it is too soft and pliable to build anything with it, and while beautiful it serves no purpose. Some areas such as the Last Hallway are plated in this metal, but most of it goes into our currency.”

Silas wiped his face with his hand, breathing hard. “And… how much of this metal is there in your kingdom? Total?”

Asgore stroked his beard and looked up at the ceiling. “About thirty years ago we began stockpiling money in anticipation of needing funds for laborers, warriors, smiths, and other professions for when the barrier was destroyed. In our treasury we currently have… I believe I am using your measurements correctly, but about fifteen tons? Many thousands of pounds, at least.”

His breath became short. His hands shivered and the coin fell with a clunk to the table. Fifteen tons. Fifteen tons of solid gold, not even counting what they used for decorative purposes or any coins still in circulation. Fifteen tons! Did they have any idea what humans would do to get their hands on that much gold? What humans had done in the past for even a fraction of that?

“Silas, are you quite alright?” Toriel asked. “You seem very pale suddenly.”

Silas squeezed his eyes shut. Focus. Focus. Fifteen tons of gold could not be converted to money easily. Selling that much gold on the open market all at once would trigger a market panic and sharply decrease the value of the remaining stock in the world. Not to mention it was a lot for a single person but not much for a potential nation. Split however many ways between all the monsters it was not much at all. Now that he thought of it, though… He let his hands fall and licked his lips. “How many of you are there? Monsters, in the Underground?”

If Asgore was perplexed by the sudden change of topic he hid it well. “As of our last census, I believe the population of the Underground was 13,000. This does not include the population of the Ruins, which had until recently been sealed and unavailable for proper counting. In the past we have estimated the population there to be 2,000 give or take.”

Silas was seeing spots. Fifteen thousand monsters. That was nearly half again the population of Weymouth. How the hell did you prepare a city to experience 50% population growth in a day? “And they all want to come out from under the mountain?”

“Most of them wish to come up to the surface. Some do not, but they are a minority.”

Maybe Chad was right. Maybe Silas really had bitten off more than he could chew. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. No, no, he could still do this. There were ways to convince the governor this was actually a good thing. He would hate himself for making those arguments, but to bring someone odious around to your way of thinking you sometimes had to use odious logic. “Alright. We can hammer out how to convert your coins to legal tender in a way which won’t upset the markets. Until then don’t tell anybody about it. In addition I _think_ I can use that gold of yours to get your people full ownership of the mountain; the laws concerning mining rights of precious metals are still governed by 19th century laws which means there are probably loopholes I could drive a truck through. Not to mention that money will buy a lot of influence and favors, if it’s cultivated properly.” He tapped his chin. “That’s going to be the key factor in all of this. I think your chances are good for getting on the surface; you are thinking, feeling, sapient beings, and so most human rights laws will protect you. But there’s a large difference between being legally allowed to participate in society and being freely accepted. I think… magic will be the key to that. It’s a unique ability monsters have that humans don’t, so if there are ways it can be used to improve the economy that will be your ‘in’. Unfortunately, you’ll have to come up with that on your own; you have a better idea of what magic can and can’t do, so as you learn more about the surface see if you can find ways of improving the lives of ordinary people. Ideally without the person being benefited having to use magic themselves.”

“I see,” Asgore said. “That is… quite a tall order. I will see what we come up with.”

“Closer to my specialty, I also foresee some fear about magic from common people. You said last night magic was not an effective weapon. But that implies it _can_ be used as a weapon, however poor and inefficient it is?”

Toriel sucked in air. A sensitive subject? “Yes. Yes, that is true. The most basic expression of magic is called a ‘bullet’. It’s a small clump of magic whose visual appearance and path through the air can be determined by its creator. They allow us to communicate and express ourselves, but even the smallest and weakest bullet can be deadly to a human. You see, the magic in our bodies can absorb the magic in the bullet, so it is not dangerous to us unless the monster means to do harm. But human bodies are different. They resist magic, so being struck by a bullet causes pain and temporary paralysis depending on the strength of the bullet. Other types of magic are also less effective; fire magic can singe clothing but can’t burn away flesh, green bullets can heal wounds but not very effectively, and so on. The exception is the soul. The human soul is very weak to magic. Being struck with a bullet there is deadly, even if the monster does not mean any harm at all.”

Silas crossed his arms. “And you didn’t mention it before because you knew Chad wouldn’t accept that explanation.”

Toriel lowered her head. “It was not my intention to deceive you. This is why we did not attempt to demonstrate our magic on any of you; even the smallest chance of something going wrong was intolerable.”

Asgore coughed, joining the conversation. “Obviously, there is a need to educate monsters about being safe and conscious of their magic field and bullets. Previously we wrote some materials to this end. Some of our guidelines are thirty years old or so but should not need significant updating. Completion of the education program will be compulsory for any monster who wishes to live on the surface. We have a law underground, where using bullets is not allowed in public areas within city limits. I suggest the human government pass a similar law.”

Silas nodded. “That makes sense. Existing law concerning the use of deadly weapons should be broad enough to cover magic. I suspect either the courts will rule expanding a magic field should be treated similarly to threatening use or congress will pass a law to that effect. Speaking of law, does magic leave any kind of forensic evidence behind? Telltale marks on the body, a leftover odor or residue in the air, anything like that?”

Asgore sadly shook his head. “Not to our knowledge; magic does its work and it is gone.”

The lawyer part of Silas sighed deeply. “That… could be a problem. I would strongly advise you don’t start teaching the rest of humanity about magic until we’ve found some way to track its use. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but humans can get violent even against each other and I would rather not hand them a murder weapon which leaves no traces.”

“Not no traces,” Asgore said darkly. “Not for murder. There is, in fact, a way for us to track killers not just done by magic but by any method: LOVE.”

Love. What the hell. “This is, of course, your idea of a joke.”

Frisk shook their head and spoke up for the first time in a while, excited to be part of the conversation. “It’s true! It’s an… ac-ro-nim. It means ‘Level of Violence’. The monsters have a machine that can look at your soul and see all sorts of stuff about you. One thing it can see is LOVE; it starts at 1, and if you kill someone it goes up. It’s because of icksa… egg-za…” Their face scrunched up and their lower lip trembled, their enthusiasm visibly draining.

Toriel touched Frisk’s shoulder. “Thank you for stepping in. You are too young to know of these things, child, but I cannot unteach what you have learned.” She returned her attention to Silas. “If you kill someone, your execution points increase. They’re a stain on your soul which never goes away. And when you gain enough, your LOVE increases.”

A thousand questions came to Silas at once and he was powerless to keep them under control. “Under what circumstances? Does the manner of killing affect the execution points gained? What about feelings of antipathy toward the target, does killing a stranger accrue less than a friend or close family member? Does it only apply to killing humans and monsters, or does killing a deer or swatting a mosquito count? What if-”

“Please!” Asgore held up a hand. “We understand the general rules of EXP and LOVE, but we have had no desire or opportunity to tease out all its nuances. You may need to ask… well, our former Royal Scientist for the most detailed information we have.”

Silas exhaled. “I apologize. I’m a defense attorney, so I thought about how it would affect my work. If someone having a LOVE of one can prove they’ve never killed anyone it would be a massive breakthrough in avoiding false convictions. But if it can be circumvented, if there are ways of killing someone without increasing your execution points, then it might be better for it not to be brought up in that context. I… realize it is not germane to our current discussion, I’ll revisit it later. We were talking about magic. You said humans once had magic. How are you so sure?”

“The barrier that kept us trapped underground was created by human magic users,” Asgore rumbled. “That is a fact. But it is also a fact they cannot use it now. The knowledge may have been lost, or the power was limited to certain bloodlines which have since died out. Or perhaps it was something else. But we believe humans can have magic once again, if humans and monsters work together.”

“Giving them the power to seal you up again?”

“If humans did not have the ability to seal us away, we would have been destroyed. We cannot win a war against humanity, Silas. We could not fight then and we would fare no better now. No matter what we look like or what powers we have, believe me when I say this. So if things don’t go well…” For the first time since they met Asgore looked as old as the monsters had implied. His smile was thin and creased with sorrow. “…Perhaps my people would prefer extinction to darkness but I would still have them offered the choice.”

The air was heavy with something terrible and unsaid. Was Silas being naive? He was under the impression that he was simply greasing the wheels, that the rights of monsters were a foregone conclusion he was merely helping along. But the monsters thought humanity might wipe them out entirely. Were their terrors overblown? Or did they have good reason to fear genocide? “I think we need a break,” he huffed. To his delight nobody objected. “We’re not done, not by a longshot. There’s still the logistics of moving everyone out, the social engineering of making your debut to humanity, and a thousand other things. But there’s no way we’re going to plan it all out in an afternoon so let’s try to pace ourselves. In the meantime, we’ll start getting Frisk taken care of. The longer we keep them without the state knowing about them, the worse it will be for everyone.” He pulled out his phone and turned the forward facing camera on. “Toriel, Asgore. And you too, Papyrus. Come here. We’re going to take a picture and send it to my father. He can get us an audience with Governor Patrick ”

Asgore smiled warmly. “You really trust him. Your father.”

The human scoffed. “I trust him not to let this go public or make a scene. He prides himself on his reputation and hates scandal more than anything. I am probably going to be in trouble with him for a very long time, but for the moment he will do what I wish.” He snapped a photo of himself being dwarfed by the monsters; Silas with a stern expression, Toriel smiling beatifically, Asgore looking a bit sheepish, and Papyrus over Silas’ shoulder giving the camera a thumbs-up. He attached the photo to an email. In the body of the message Silas explained who the people with him were and what he wanted. He thought for a moment about the title, but realized there was really only one thing he could say to prepare his father for what lay inside.

‘These aren’t costumes.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The population of monsters was estimated by assuming finishing Mettaton’s boss fight with ratings over 12,000 captures nearly 100% of his potential audience, with the television ownership rate in the Underground estimated at 80% (slightly more than the worldwide rate of 79% of total households).


	4. Susan Liao's Underground Tour

_The young girl stepped off the school bus, her pink backpack complementing her thick cyan winter coat. She clung to the straps with mittened hands, only releasing it to wave big and wide when she spotted the other girls in her class. She hurried over and was immediately beset by greetings and requests._

“ _Heeeeeeeey! Susan, over here!”_

“ _Have you seen that cartoon yet, Susan? You know, the one I told you about the other day!”_

“ _Ugh, Necco wafers again? Hey Susan, wanna trade snacks?”_

_The child scrunched up her face, enthusiasm momentarily deflated. “That’s not my name… it’s Shuchun.”_

_It did not matter how often she repeated it. The other children could never get the pronunciation right. Shushin’, SOO-chin, Shi-shin… once Martin even pronounced it ‘Seschuan’, like the chicken. Eventually the kids all gave up and called her Susan. Her mother did not understand her frustration. Indeed she was delighted, thinking the other children had given her daughter a nickname to celebrate her inclusion. She was fitting in with the other kids despite being the only Chinese girl in the whole school! Shuchun did not have the heart to tell her that was not it at all. It was an easier name. A normal name. And therefore a more correct name._

_It was not like she was being bullied. The other kids liked her, they thought she was fun. But that just made it worse in her mind. She could understand it if they were trying to be mean, but they really seemed to think they were doing her a favor by taking her name away from her. Or else they cared enough to be her friend but not enough to get her name right? It made no sense._

_The bell to start the school day rung and all the first graders hurried into the building. Right away there was a nasty surprise: a substitute. By this time of the year the teacher could simply look over the assembled kids and instantly know who was there and who was missing. But they had a substitute teacher today, and that meant everyone had to stay completely still while the sub slooooooowly looked down the list of names, read off each one, verified the student, checked off the name, and only then went on to the next one. What their normal teacher could do in thirty seconds it would take the sub at least five minutes. Worst of all, a sub meant…_

“ _Cindy Lancaster?”_

“ _Here.”_

“ _Thomas Leader?”_

“ _Here.”_

_The sub frowned at the next name, adjusting his bifocals which were a poor fit for a face so young. He looked out among the sea of heads with a wince, focusing on Shuchun. “Miss… Lee-ay-ow? I’m so sorry, how do I pronounce this?”_

_She sighed before lifting her hand. Why fight it? “I’m here. You can call me Susan, everyone does.”_

* * *

Susan remembered thinking about the legend, the one about travelers climbing Mt. Ebott not returning, when she first heard about Frisk’s disappearance. Since time immemorial it was something elementary schoolers believed in, a ghost story for a place with no lack of them. But of course, the mountain was no more or less dangerous than any other densely forested mountain with no significant settlements near it. It was not uncommon for hikers to get lost there, but the local rangers had mapped out the place with considerably more care than other local mountains specifically to head off rumors of its danger. She blamed that expose from two years ago. In response to a child who ran away from home some muckraker had compiled a list of other missing Weymouth children in the previous twenty three years, highlighted their complicated home situations, and implied they went to Ebott to disappear based on hearsay and flimsy evidence. It had been a rumor among kids since she had been in elementary school, but the program exposed the legend to the world of adults. Now even people as far away as Connecticut spoke in hushed whispers of the ‘cursed mountain’. It certainly did not help that the mountain had already become famous back when the Forest Service released their findings that Mount Ebott was the epicenter of the golden flower habitat and they would not grow outside a 20 mile range of it. So she was a little bit skeptical of the claim of a wide cavern opening leading almost directly into the King’s throne room and asked if Undyne could lead her there. Undyne agreed and they left while Silas and the Boss Monsters dealt with the boring parts. Leave the talking to people who liked talking, she was not about to lose out on a chance for an adventure!

She drove Undyne to the foot of a hiking trail and parked Silas’ car there. The whole way up the mountain Undyne marveled at the simplest things, from the variety of trees to the chirping birds to the buzzing insects. Susan had to stifle a laugh when Undyne tried to speak to one of the birds and became mortally offended when it did not respond. She kept herself from flying off the handle and spearing them but her screaming at least kept all the other animals away. After having the concept of unintelligent animals explained to her Undyne was a bit sheepish: “How was I supposed to know some things don’t talk back? There’s lots of monsters this small that are still pretty smart!”

Susan grinned at her. “The culture shock is real.” Undyne raised an eyebrow, but that did nothing to dent Susan’s mood. She was going to have so much fun introducing the monsters to memes.

Susan was dressed seasonably, a dark blue windbreaker worn over a three-sizes-too-large flannel shirt and jeans. She had not returned to her parent’s house for any changes of clothes but she had been planning on spending the weekend outdoors in mid-September, after all. She had a heavier winter coat tied by the sleeves around her waist; Undyne insisted she would need it for ‘Snowdin’, one of the major living hubs of the Underground along with New Home, Hotland, and the Ruins. Due to the massive temperature difference the names Snowdin and Hotland suggested, it would probably not be possible to dress comfortably for one without the other threatening her life. So she dressed for the surface weather and brought a heavier coat for the cold, reasoning that would make her uncomfortable but safe in either place.

They were only hiking for half an hour before the mouth of the cave came into view. “How could they have missed this?” Susan said as she peered up the slope. It did not seem like a well-hidden feature; it was in the side of the mountain, clearly visible through the trees from some distance away. It was not around a blind corner, nor did the shadows conceal the mouth of the cave. Heck, one could even make out a worn path between the trees leading up to it. So how? How had cartographers and travelers missed this cave for decades? But they must have; it did not have the look of something recently blasted out of the mountainside, and any working crew capable of digging this out surely would have attracted attention. Maybe it had been covered by magic. Magic could do that, surely.

Once she reached the opening she pulled out her flashlight and clicked it on. Even with her weak beam of light she could see the rough cave walls abruptly gave way to a polished hallway just a few feet inside. Undyne seemed leery of walking back in, as though she was afraid the barrier would slam right back into place and trap her again, but followed at a comfortable distance. Just as the scent of fresh air began to fade and be replaced with a musty odor Susan reached a large open chamber that looked like it was in the middle of being renovated. Rock fragments and debris were scattered across the ground, and the decorative pillars had sizable chunks missing. Even the walls had not escaped unscathed; the far wall had two holes in it, one round and charred at the edges and the other a silhouette of someone tall and thin. The wall on the right also had a hole, if by “hole” one meant “the entire wall was missing”. Far below was a cityscape stretching to the edge of the cavern. While the architecture was crude and basic, the buildings almost brutalist in design, the sheer scope of it was breathtaking. If Susan squinted she could see monsters of many shapes and sizes down below walking to and from work, going to market, and in general going about the business of their day. “How long have you lived down here?” Susan asked Undyne as she pulled out her cellphone.

The fish-woman shrugged in response. “Dunno. A thousand years maybe? I wasn’t around for most of it, and after a while everyone stopped counting. It got kinda depressing after a while. But you can feel the tension from all the way up here, right? They all know the barrier’s gone. Everyone is excited to see the world. They’re just waiting for us to tell them the good news. Or… you know. Waiting for a whole bunch of humans to rush in and start killing them all. Either or.” Undyne pretended not to notice Susan staring at her and continued on to the throne room.

Susan resolved to take pictures of this room on her way out, for now she had to rush a bit to catch up with Undyne. The flannel shirt hung halfway down her legs, low enough to either restrict her legs or rip the shirt if she tried to run full-tilt. “Why do you think humans are going to kill you all?”

“Because humans locked us down here to begin with!” Undyne pointedly averted her face away from Susan. “The humans attacked without warning and slaughtered us by the hundreds! They stuffed the survivors down here and seven human wizards put the barrier in place so we’d never get out! Don’t you know any of this? Don’t humans have their own stories?”

Susan shook her head. “No. I’ve never heard anything about this. I mean, there’s… heh, there’s this stupid legend that travelers who climb Mt. Ebott don’t return, but only kids believe it. And there’s certainly nothing about monsters or a war or-” She stopped when she entered the throne room. The ground extending from the throne for several feet was covered in golden flowers. She had heard of golden flowers, of course, they were a special local flora. But most of the fields had either been blocked off by environmentalists or the tea moguls so it was rare to see more than the one or two which escaped their clutches to grow between cracks in the sidewalk or on a patch of ground no one actively cared for. Shafts of light streamed in from above to give the room an otherworldly appearance. The full majesty of it would not come out in a photo but she took pictures anyway, stowing her flashlight to give her a free hand. “So pretty…”

“This’s the garden,” Undyne explained. “Asgore spent lots of time here, caring for the flowers. He even set his throne here.” She pointed to the chair at the center of the flowers, well-made but simple. It was not even particularly large once one considered who was supposed to sit in it.

“A garden?” Susan knelt down to touch a petal. Something was wrong about that word being used to describe this place. A garden was controlled, carefully maintained. This looked more like a field where the flowers were allowed to grow wherever and however they liked. There was something else too, something she could not put into words. A garden is supposed to fill the observer with wonder, or with an appreciation for beauty. But when she saw this field, with flowers growing over and under and into each other, she only felt sad. Why was that? “I don’t want him to get mad at us for stepping on them. Let’s go around.” She carefully crept along the edges, Undyne just behind.

On the other side of the flower field was a doorway into a hall at a T-intersection. Hm, a fork in the road. The path to the right looked more well-traveled. That was probably the exit. A smile crept into her face. Explore all the side paths before continuing on with the plot! That was how you got 100% completion in games and in life! She dashed off to the left and down the set of stairs, ignoring the squawks of panic and outrage from her companion.

“Y-you shouldn’t go far!” Undyne said hurrying after her.

“Asgore said I could look around!” She picked up her pace and scampered down a long stairwell. The basement! This is where the dungeon would be in a medieval castle! She wondered if monsters had any political prisoners they were keeping here, or enemies of the state, or maybe torture implements! She wondered if monsters could even be tortured since their anatomy varied so widely, but-

There was no dungeon. No bars or cells, no racks or whips or pokers or anything like that. The small basement was completely unfurnished save for seven wooden boxes in a long hexagonal shape, six of them with the lids pried open and set on the side. They were all empty. “Are these coffins?” It was a stupid question, what else could they be? Each of them was an identical shape, size, and style, wood painted gray with little in the way of cushioning or design on the inside and marked only with a colored heart on the top. Only the closed one with a red heart on top was labeled with a name: ‘Chara’. Without asking for permission Susan grabbed onto the lid of this one and pulled up, the top flying off easily as it had not been sealed or locked in any way. This, too, was empty save for a few bandages like mummy wrappings. She turned to look back at her companion, who looked just as stunned as she was. “Undyne, why does your king have seven empty coffins in his basement?”

Undyne regained her composure but averted her gaze. “That’s… something you’d have to ask him about.”

Susan traced her fingers over the name. “Who was Chara?”

“That’s something you’d have to ask him about.” The words were the same but this time they were squeezed out between clenched teeth. Susan took the hint and stopped asking questions. Instead she snapped more photos. Undyne was clearly not enthusiastic about this, either. “Hey, what the hell?!”

“I’m not posting any of these publicly but Silas is going to want to see this,” Susan explained. “Or what, are you going to kill me to keep me quiet?” Undyne balked at the word ‘kill’, her face becoming pale. Susan only nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. There’s nothing wrong with an empty coffin, it’s just weird. I’m sure Asgore has an explanation for it and I’m sure it’s perfectly innocent.” She took a few more photos, mostly to confirm the coffins really were empty. She sent them to Silas, or at least she attempted to. Being under the earth gave one a very poor signal. Ah well, it would send automatically when she was back above ground.

Undyne clenched and unclenched her fist. “Hey. Is that something humans do? Do they… would you really kill someone just to protect a secret?”

It took Susan a moment to answer. She had never really thought about that before. “I wouldn’t,” she said. “I don’t know anyone who would. But it comes up a lot in movies and on TV, that there are some secrets so terrible that people would kill to prevent anyone from knowing about it. There must be people like that or we wouldn’t be so quick to accept it.” Undyne nodded, though her frown suggested there was something about that logic she thought dubious. “Alright, let’s go back.”

The other route led through an ornate hallway decorated in gold. Gold floors, gold ceiling, gold pillars. Honestly, it looked sort of tacky to her. The stained-glass windows on the other hand were stunning, simple designs which nonetheless provided necessary depth to the hall. It clearly had more significance than merely traversing point A to point B. She would almost call it pompous, a display of wealth to show off the king’s status and power, except anything like that would be wildly out of character for Asgore. “Undyne? What is this place for?”

Undyne did not immediately answer. Several uncomfortable seconds passed with no sound but the echoes of their footsteps. Susan was about to repeat her question when Undyne finally said, “Some call it the Last Hallway. It’s the last stop between the castle and the throne room. There’s an old custom, where anyone who wants to see the king must walk this hallway alone.” Nothing more. Soon the hall ended and the two walked down a balcony overlooking the same city they saw from the antechamber to the outside world. “New Home,” Undyne explained with a laugh, maybe an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere. “King Asgore, he’s got a lot of good points but he kinda sucks at names. Most of the monsters underground live here. In fact it’s starting to get overcrowded… if the barrier hadn’t come down I’m not sure what we would have done.” They walked a few seconds more before she turned. “Hey, sorry for changing the subject, but are you related to Frisk or something?”

Susan had to blink. “I’m sorry, what? Why would you…?”

“Your eyes. Frisk always keeps their eyes closed, though it doesn’t stop them from seeing anything. And your eyes are kinda small, too.”

Did she seriously just…? Susan took a few breaths to calm herself down. Undyne had literally lived under a rock her whole life, it would not be fair to get mad at her. There was no baggage, there was no accusation. She did not know. “No, my eyes are like this because I’m Chinese. I’m a first generation immigrant. I… don’t know how Frisk can see with their eyes closed. Most humans can’t do that. But yeah, me and Frisk aren’t related at all.”

“Is that so? Huh.” Undyne scratched the back of her head, looking up and to the side. “Monsters don’t usually look similar unless they’re related. I figured your skin tone and theirs was pretty close and your eyes were partly closed, so…”

The culture shock _was_ real. “Compared to monsters humans don’t differ that much. Some are taller, some have different skin color, but two humans on opposite sides of the country look more similar to each other than a monster might be to their next door neighbor. It must be difficult for you guys to tell us apart.”

“It helps that you dress different.” Undyne gave Susan a wide grin to let her know she was at least partly joking. Susan laughed, shaking her head. “Next up on the tour is Asgore’s house, at the heart of New Home. I call it his ‘house’, but I don’t think he uses it much. He eats, sleeps, and then off he goes checking on something elsewhere in person or to his garden.”

She had not been kidding. The house had the air of a mausoleum rather than something people lived in. The drab walls and floor, the stale scents, the way every loose object was placed just a touch too perfectly to have ended up there by accident. And golden flowers, always golden flowers. Rather than add color they only provided a sense of obsessive madness to the gloom of the rest of the house. The flowers were not just flowers, she decided. They represented something Asgore lost, or perhaps never had. A handwritten note implored Susan to make herself at home; she declined the offer. She took no photos here; even though her path led straight through here it did not seem right to snap pictures of someone else’s house without them there.

As they left through the front door they saw a child-sized blob of semi-transparent goo and a large muscular monster with a ram’s horns pulling a barricade out from the middle of a stairwell. “Oh cool, they’re finally getting around to opening the capital back up. Come on, we can take a shortcut through the city and skip through all of Hotland.”

“Wait!” Susan protested. “I don’t want to skip anything!”

“I’m going to have to insist,” Undyne said, scratching the back of her neck. “Hotland is… it’s rough for me. I only had to go through a few hundred feet of it to get from my old house to Alphys’ lab, and even that was enough that I needed Alphys to install a water cooler halfway. Tell you what, I’ll see if we can find someone in Water… I mean, Snowdin to give you a tour of the place and I’ll meet up with you back in the capital on our way out. Sound good?”

Susan nodded hesitantly; they did not want to put Undyne in danger, but it was a shame to come all this way and not see an entire section of the monster’s home. “Why was the way to the capital sealed? Was there an accident or something?”

Undyne stopped in midstride, her eyes widening. “Oh, that’s probably because… well, because they got word that a human was on their way. They closed off the stairwells to funnel Frisk to Asgore’s castle.”

“Why?”

Undyne averted her eye. “Fear, I guess. Even though we want to co-exist with humans, there are a lot of monsters who are scared.” Susan supposed she understood that; a thousand years of bad blood did not fade right away.

The capital itself, at least, was interesting. At first glance it did not seem too different from a human city. Monsters in business suits, casual clothing, and school uniforms jostled past each other on their way to the daily lives. There were no motor vehicles on the road; everyone walked to their destination. This was likely partly because there as no way to get enough fossil fuel or metals to support such an industry as it was a terrible idea to run a combustion engine with the poor ventilation of the underground. Undyne and Susan passed a few rickshaw-like contraptions, single-passenger vehicles pulled by either strong monsters or a team of smaller ones, either delivering customers to their destinations or waiting for the same. Because of the reduced vehicle traffic roads were a fair bit thinner and more claustrophobic than a human city; even the thin roads of old cities like Boston did not compare. What surprised her, though, was how friendly everyone was. Human cities were full of stone-faced pedestrians trudging along their own way, jostling and elbowing their way through crowds without ever really seeing anyone’s face. But monsters waved and smiled to each other, offered greetings and pleasantries, like they were meeting old friends every few steps. They really were friendly to everyone.

Everyone except Susan.

Oh, a few people waved at her or said hello. But she could tell there was a tension present which had not been there before they saw her. Their smiles became nervous and their greetings were forced. She could feel their stares linger on her back. She subconsciously huddled closer to Undyne for protection, knowing as if by instinct not one of the monsters would do anything in Undyne’s presence. She did not fully relax until they reached an elevator and practically leapt inside.

“What was that?” Susan asked. “Is that what monsters think of humans? Are they really that scared of us?”

“It’s something we need to work on before we start letting monster up topside,” Undyne admitted. “Those of us who became good friends with Frisk, we all know not all humans mean us harm. But citizens of the capital especially are wary. It hasn’t been all that long since…” She trailed off and covered her mouth. When she pulled it back down she began a new thought, “We’ll be at Hotland when the elevator doors open. Follow me as best you can, if you lose sight of me I’m going straight at the four-way intersection. That road goes to the Riverperson’s stop, if he’s there we can catch a ride to Snowdin.”

The doors opened and heat slammed into them like a wall. And it was a wet heat, too, muggy and gross. Susan now understood Undyne’s reluctance to stick around, this place was awful! They left the elevator at a brisk walk. Rather than the polished stonework of New Home, Hotland was a series of uncut stone pathways jutting straight out of the… was that lava? There appeared to be no fences or even a rope to keep people away from the edges, and one careless move could send one careening to their death below. And Frisk walked through this by themself? “Undyne,” she said with a pant. The fish woman nodded but made no sound to reply. “This can’t possibly be safe. You have got to get some barricades up before letting anyone else through here. All it would take is one misstep and not just a human, a monster could die by-”

“Are you in a hurry?” asked a squeaky voice to their right. Susan looked to see an adorable volcano with a happy smiling face regarding her warmly. “I can help you out! Lightning! Speed up!”

Susan felt a tingle over her whole body. Right before her eyes a red heart appeared in the center of her chest. A smiling thundercloud popped out of the top of the volcano creature’s head, hurling stylized thunderbolts in all directions. Susan blinked at the absurdity of it. “What in…?”

“NO!” Undyne screamed, getting in between Susan and the volcano. As she did so a white upside-down heart appeared on her own chest and several of the lightning bolts slammed into Undyne’s back. Her face screwed up in effort but she took the blasts without even a grunt of protest. “Sorry about this, we gotta get you out of here!”

“What?” Susan asked, trying to look past Undyne. What was the creature doing? “Why? What’s going on? AH!”

Undyne did not answer, and instead picked her up under the knees and across the back. This was a bridal carry, Susan realized with equal parts exhilaration and horror. No! Her heart wasn’t ready for this! More of the lightning bolts buried themselves into the rocky path with a sizzle. She reached out to catch one in her hand, but when she did it a jolt of pain ran up her arm and she cried out. “Keep your hands in and don’t let them touch you!” Undyne warned, too late. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you on my honor as Captain of the Royal Guard!” Without another word Undyne broke into a sprint, quickly leaving the volcano creature behind.

Susan clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to work some kind of sensation besides stinging pain into her hand. Belatedly she realized that she was in danger. That volcano, whatever it was, had attacked her. Could it have killed her? That cute thing with the adorable smile on its face? No way. Then again, those were lightning bolts it was throwing and it certainly stung to get hit by one. Was such a cuddly-looking creature really…?

Before she knew it Undyne had put Susan down into a wooden boat. Sweat poured down Undyne’s face and she sucked in huge gulps of air. No… that was not sweat. Susan realized with horror that Undyne was _melting_ in front of her eyes. The fish-woman half-sat, half-collapsed into the boat, instructing the hooded boatperson in gasps, “Snowdin. Take… your time.” Even as she spoke little blueish flecks of herself dripped onto the boat floor.

“I am never in a hurry,” the boatperson replied. “But I am never slow. I go as fast as I like. Tra la la.” The Riverperson thrust their paddle into the water and shoved off from the shore. The boat picked up speed in an almost unnatural manner, the tunnels whizzing by as though they were being pushed along by a strong current.

As soon as they were underway Susan sidled closer to Undyne. “Are you okay?” Susan gulped. “You look…”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. Her grin was as toothy as ever but lacked some of her usual energy. “But I’ve been a lot worse too. I get like this if I’m… uh, too worked up, is the easy way to put it. As long as I can rest for a bit I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Susan began. “Because of me…”

“Don’t sweat it.” After a second she grimaced. “Damn, that was kinda morbid of me. Sorry. Anyway, it’s not your fault. If that Vulkin hadn’t shown up…!”

“Vulkin? You mean that… volcano thing?”

“Yeah. They’re convinced they’ve mastered green and orange magic but they’re rubbish. So they think they’re shooting healing bullets but they’re really just regular bullets. Normally it’s not that big a deal, but you’re a human. Damn it, they could have killed you!”

Susan felt very cold. Toriel had told her last night, magic used on a human was not an effective weapon. Was that a lie? “And you want to bring creatures like that to the surface? To meet with other humans?”

“Of course not!” Undyne shouted, then she doubled over and coughed into her hand. It sounded wet, and when she recovered she closed her fist around something without looking at it. “Of course not. Before any monster gets to the surface we’ll put them through a training regimen. Teach them how dangerous their bullets are and why they can’t shoot carelessly on the surface. If they can’t refrain from shooting bullets as a first response or if they don’t understand how dangerous they are, they don’t come up. We know even one accidental death could mean the end, so we aren’t giving any leeway on this. It might be a real long time before Vulkin reaches the surface.”

Susan nodded. She put a hand to her chest and found the red heart had vanished. “When it was attacking me…”

“Yeah, your soul.” Undyne straightened a little, but slumped again almost immediately. She rubbed her hand against her mouth and both came away with smear marks. “Your soul appears if you get targeted with magic. If you didn’t ask for magic to be used on you and that heart shows up, you need to run.”

“Shhhh, okay. I get it. Save your strength.”

Undyne nodded. “Oh, and put your coat on. Snowdin is _cold_.”

Susan obeyed and donned her pink and baby blue winter coat, not caring how it clashed with the rest of her attire; she could feel the temperature dropping by the minute, the sweat on her forehead beginning to sting. She had no idea how far they had traveled or how fast but it was clear they were getting close to their destination. It was only a few moments longer until the boat stopped at a snowy dock and the Riverperson informed them of their arrival. Susan helped Undyne out of the boat and allowed her to lean on Susan for support. It looked ridiculous; Undyne was head and shoulders taller than Susan, so Undyne had to take halting half-steps to allow Susan to keep pace. The town itself was nice, but they could not stop; she had to get Undyne to a hospital or something. Undyne refused and instead directed her to a house on the outskirts of town. “This is Papyrus’ house,” she explained. “His brother’s still here but he won’t bother us. I crashed here after my house burned down the other day. If I can just lie on the couch I’ll be fine in a little while.”

Susan was doubtful but opened the door without knocking and set her up. She was a little concerned about the door being unlocked but there were bigger issues to deal with. “Anything I can get you? Food, a blanket, pillows?” Undyne pointed to a bundle of blankets under the coffee table and Susan draped them over her, tucking her in.

“Thanks,” Undyne smiled. “I’m gonna take a nap. Trust me, I’ll be fine, you don’t have to watch over me. You can go explore a bit, but stay in town. There are laws against using magic on people in populated areas, so you’re safe here but if you leave you might get in trouble someplace I can’t find you. Oh, and here.” She pulled her hand out of the blankets and dumped some curiously heavy coins into Susan’s hand. “Get yourself some food with that. The general store’s just down the way, her cinnamon bunnies are the best.” With that Undyne closed her eyes. Despite her assurance Susan stayed with her for a little while, watching her chest rise and fall. She did not think of leaving until Undyne stopped dripping and her form regained its solidity. She considered looking for Papyrus’ brother, at least to explain the situation, but she figured if he was awake he would have come to check on them with the ruckus they made coming inside. She pulled out a pair of mittens from her coat pocket and put them on her hands before heading out.

Now that she could appreciate the town it was quite nice. She always loved how winter looked: the way untouched snow rolled and swept over the fields, the way icicles crept over the edges of the rooftops and melded together, even the way individual flakes would leave a powdery residue on rough cloth, all of it was beautiful. A place that was snowy all year ‘round sounded like something out of an artbook. It was cold, true, but at least it was a pleasant cold, not the kind where the edges of your ears got nibbled off in moments.

As she walked she found something that looked like a general store at the same time her stomach rumbled. Undyne had said something about that, right? A bell rang as she opened the door and a rabbit-like monster behind the counter waved “Howdy!” to her. Susan waved back and examined the store interior. It was a bit crowded with wares of all types, from coats and hats to dry goods to shovels and everything in between. It was not organized terribly well, however, with everything crammed together to make it fit wherever it could. The shopkeeper looked Susan over. “You look a bit like that other stranger that came by the other day. Was that your kid, maybe?”

Susan blinked. Did they mean…? “Are you talking about Frisk? About this high, curly hair, blue-and-lilac striped shirt? Sorry, they aren’t mine but I know them. I’m looking for… cinnamon bunnies? Undyne told me about them.”

“Is that so? Well lucky you, I’ve got a fresh batch coming out right now.” The shopkeeper opened up the oven and continued talking. “Frisk, you say? Strange… I don’t think they told me their name but it sounds familiar. I guess my sister told me about them; she runs the inn next door, and Frisk was an absolute treasure to her.” She pulled a tray out of the oven and a blast of cinnamon wafted into Susan’s nostrils. The treats on the pan looked like tiny rabbits made of bread, almost too cute to eat. The shopkeeper placed one on a plate and left it on the counter. “You can have one on the house. Any friend of Frisk is a friend of mine; in a small place like this neighbors have to help each other out. But just to warn you, you won’t be able to eat just one!” Susan happily accepted it and found it was true; it melted on her way to her stomach the way Toriel’s breakfast had, but her belly was perfectly happy anyway. She bought three more with the money Undyne gave her. The shopkeeper put them in a bag to go and asked, “Are you from the capital, too? Or perhaps Waterfall?”

Susan paused. “Waterfall?”

The shopkeeper pointed off to the east. “Of course. You must have passed it on the way here from Hotland?”

Susan felt a coldness in the pit of her stomach, and this time a cinnamon bunny would do nothing to dispel it. “N-no,” she stammered, snatching the bag with the remaining bunnies and stuffing it in her coat pockets. “I took the Riverperson’s boat. U-um, thank you for these. Sorry, I have to go.” She pulled open the door and rushed out into the cold, quickly walking back the way she came.

On her way back Susan mentally ran through the checklist Undyne gave her of the major residential areas of the Kingdom of Monsters. Ruins. Snowdin. Hotland. New Home. Undyne never said anything about a ‘Waterfall’. But it was between Snowdin and Hotland? Did Undyne take her on the Riverperson’s boat specifically to avoid Waterfall? But why?

‘They’re hiding something,’ Silas had said. ‘I don’t know what it is yet but it’s something bad.’ At the time she blew him off, but maybe there was something to it after all? And did that something have to do with Waterfall? What could be there, with such an innocuous name?

Susan stopped in front of Papyrus’ house. If she confronted Undyne, could she trust her to tell the truth? Or was this a secret monsters would die to protect? Undyne warned her not to leave town and she probably was not lying when she said it was dangerous, but… what if it was also to keep her from discovering Waterfall and whatever laid there? Undyne had already lied by omission once, why not again? She peered into the distance and saw a path running alongside the river leading into the mouth of a cave. Magic was dangerous to humans. Other monsters might try to use their magic on Susan without realizing it was dangerous, like that Vulkin. But on the other hand, monster food could heal injuries. As long as she was careful and ran away quickly, she should be alright. Susan took one more breath to summon up her courage and walked past Papyrus’ house. As she did a fog coalesced around her and she quickly disappeared from view.

 


	5. Meeting the Governor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains political speech, bigotry in general, and Islamophobia and transphobia in particular.

Chad and Marty returned a short time later with a bed and a writing desk for Frisk’s new room. Asgore took the items upstairs and began constructing them immediately, while Toriel took stock of the shelves and made up a grocery list. Marty looked it over and raised an eyebrow. “Snails?” he asked.

Toriel nodded happily. “Snail pie is one of my favorites, though not many people share my taste for it. I suppose you could call it a guilty pleasure. I will not force anyone to indulge, but I would like to have some for myself.”

Marty called for Silas, “Hey! You’ve been to fancy shindigs with your dad, right? What’s escargot taste like?”

Silas answered without looking up from his tablet where he was researching property laws. “Not bad once you get used to it. It’s an acquired taste. Is something funny?” Frisk had burst out laughing at Silas’ comment, but restrained themself back to a snicker before shaking their head, refusing to elaborate.

“So you really like to cook, huh?” Marty said to Toriel, grabbing a few jars and containers down from the cupboards. “It’s almost lunchtime, so in exchange for the breakfast I’ll show you a recipe that’ll blow your mind: pizza. It’s easy, it’s cheap, and best of all if you can take raw ingredients and turn them into pizza all your friends will think you’re magic. Uh, figuratively.”

Toriel put a finger on her chin and tilted her head. “A beginner recipe? You are not trying to imply something about my cooking, are you?”

“Not at all! It’s just, uh, pizza’s the only thing I can make. But once you have it mastered you can do all sorts of stuff to put your own spin on it. Using different toppings, swapping out the sauce or cheeses, adding new things into the crust. And even if the experiment doesn’t work bad pizza is still pretty good. Hey Papyrus, you get over here too!” Papyrus “Nyeh?”-ed at the sound of his name. “You said something about spaghetti earlier. Well, any fan of Italian cooking is going to need to get real familiar with pizza! Alright, for a group this size we’re probably gonna need about four pies, plus one more because the only thing better than fresh pizza is leftover pizza. We’re gonna need a bunch of flour, a little sugar, some salt…”

It was at this moment Silas noticed Chad had disappeared. When he pulled out his phone to call Chad he saw a text from him: “tired an ur place is 2 crowded cul8r”. Silas frowned at the screen; Chad had always been pretty quiet but the ghosting was a new trick. He sent a reply reminding him not to tell anyone about the monsters, which got him the single letter response “k”. He clicked his tongue. He could have used him to get clothes for Frisk; now he would probably have to do it himself.

Silas received a call back from his father’s secretary shortly after lunch. She informed him a meeting between the governor and the monsters was scheduled in one hour. She added, unnecessarily, “Also your father wants to see you tomorrow. Can I pencil you in for dinner?” That was probably not good, but it was too late to worry about it now. He would have to leave soon if he wanted to make it to Concord in time. He checked himself in the mirror before leaving; he had already slipped into his suit so he was ready for a high-stakes meeting with an influential politician. His short blond hair was perfectly combed and parted to the side now that he could afford a moment on it. His default expression was that tight-lipped and dour-faced look television lawyers always seemed to wear, the one way he was happy to play into the stereotype. The monsters looked as good as they were going to; he was not even sure how he would get clothing in Asgore’s size, or that fit Papyrus’ dimensions. He instructed Alphys to keep the windows closed and only answer the door if it was him or his friends.

Asgore and Toriel came with him in the SUV, along with Papyrus to serve as a demilitarized zone between the two Boss Monsters. Oh yes, and he had mentioned being the ambassador so he probably deserved to be at the meeting on his own right. On the way down he gave the monsters a crash course in democratic government and New Hampshire’s unique blend of social open-mindedness and rabid distrust of authority. Papyrus drank in the information and deposited it into his notepad; Asgore and Toriel simply listened as Silas drove.

A little over half an hour later they arrived at their destination. The governor’s mansion, called Bridges House by the locals, was a fairly modest two-and-a-half-story brick house nestled among birch trees. A plaque at the front noted its history as well as its status as a nationally registered Historic Place. The front door supports were granite, as were the sills to the bay windows to each side. There were no guards posted; usually security was left to state and local police, but frequently governors decided they needed no protection at all. Odd, when meeting with a sentient non-human species one would think the governor would prefer having somebody on duty just in case. There was a woman there to greet them at the front door who introduced herself as Mrs. Kimball, the governor’s wife. She blanched on seeing the monsters, stammering that her husband was waiting for them in the study and bravely offering to show the way. The interior of the house had an elegant taste, with patterned rugs decorating hardwood floors. The furniture was upholstered in dark colors and floral patterns, and anything that was not an antique was certainly trying to look like it was one.

Two men were waiting in the study for them. The rotund man with a handlebar mustache was Governor Patrick Kimball. Silas recognized but could not name the other, an older gentleman with a wrinkled face and a navy blue suit. The governor narrowed his eyes at the party before him. “Who are you? I was told I would be meeting with Mr. Pembrooke’s son, but you are not Reginald Jr.”

Silas took the initiative: “Indeed I am not. I am Mr. Pembrooke’s eldest son, Silas. It is good to see you.” He received an empty stare in return. Ah, so his father had not seen fit to inform them about his son. Well, forget that. The stakes of this meeting were too high to get bogged down in details. “I know you are a busy man, governor, so I would like to conclude with this business as soon as possible. We are here because the monsters wish to integrate peacefully with the human population of Weymouth. Ah, with your outburst it nearly slipped my mind. This is King Asgore Dreemurr. He will surrender his title upon gaining citizenship, though he hopes he will continue be allowed to have a ceremonial role in monster culture during the transition period.” Asgore nodded his head. “This is Toriel, a respected leader in the monster kingdom and a part of the royal family.” Toriel bowed at the waist. “And last but not least, the ambassador for monster-human relations, The Great Papyrus.”

The governor’s gaze went from Toriel to Asgore and back to Silas. A smirk crept into his lips like a spider investigating a tremor in its web. “They look a little like the White Beast, don’t they? Or was that before your time? I suppose, as publicity stunts go, this one is rather amusing.”

Silas froze. Shit. Now that he thought about it they did look a bit like the descriptions of that urban legend. He had never believed in it and he had been gone for seven years so he had completely forgotten about it. He was not very good at thinking on his feet; in a courtroom that was not as much of a problem as television and movies might lead one to believe. But when facing a politician it was a fatal weakness. He floundered, “W-well… I assure you, they are not a hoax. Or a special effect. Or a costume!” He winced as his voice cracked. Maybe they hadn’t heard it properly?

But no. Kimball did not react, but the other man (Senator Weams, Silas remembered at that moment) narrowed his eyes as recognition flashed on his face, and Silas realized with perfect clarity born of panic that _he knew he saw_ _and he does not approve_. He felt cold and exposed, all the clothes and all the mannerisms and all the speech therapy in the world unable to conceal what he had tried so hard to hide. He was drowning, he was dying, he could feel his heartbeat in his ears and his throat constrict.

“Ah, excuse me,” Asgore said with a furrowed brow. “What is a ‘white beast’?”

The governor’s patronizing smile vanished. “Oh. They… they move. And talk.”

Silas inhaled, the governor’s faltering giving him a chance to recover. “From your reaction I assume you only agreed to this meeting out of morbid curiosity. You seem knowledgeable about the old wives’ tales from out in Weymouth, and must have thought I was trying to have a laugh with some local color. Senator Weams, did you…?”

Weams nodded, and said through barely-moving lips, “I’m surpised ‘Silas’ did not mention it you earlier, King Asgore.” His smile gleamed with a nasty edge for just a moment; he did not approve, but could not out Silas in front of the governor without appearing to be a petty little asshole. Which he was, but it never profited for a politician to be recognized as one. “The legend goes that one early morning some massive white animal no one had ever seen before smashed its way into a golden flower preserve while carrying a child’s corpse. When confronted the beast breathed fire into the air, scaring the bejeezus out of everyone. The townsfolk defended themselves and the animal bounded off faster than anyone can chase them, directly towards Mt. Ebbot. But of course, nobody ever found any trace of it; no corpse, no blood, and none of the five surrounding counties had any reported missing or dead children. And conveniently nobody on the scene had a working cell phone; I wasn’t able to get the cell towers in until the thirties, when Weymouth’s growth was too fast to ignore any longer. Anyway, the beast never appeared again so everyone just chalked it up to some kind of mass hallucination, but the people of Weymouth think the beast still lives on that mountain. None of the hikers who have gone looking for it have ever found it, though. Doesn’t stop them from spreading this ridiculous rumor that it kills and eats anyone it finds, and that travelers who climb the mountain never return.” He scoffed and shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. “Anyway, Governor, they wouldn’t be here if they ate people. When’s the last time you thought about having a conversation with the chicken right before dinner?”

Toriel and Asgore looked at each other, shock and pain leaving creases on their faces. There was something there, some old story or tragedy on the monsters’ side, but this was not the time or place to discuss it. The governor coughed to return attention to its rightful place, i.e. on him. “I apologize for the interruption. I am Governor Patrick Kimball, and this is State Senator Harry Weams. He happened to be visiting today so I thought he might sit in on our meeting.”

Silas nodded. “Very well. Let us begin in earnest. Earlier I said Asgore would give up his crown when he became a citizen, but I am afraid that is not quite right. By my reading of the laws he is, all the monsters are, already citizens of these United States.”

Both Mr. Weams and Mr. Kimball froze. Kimball looked at the three monsters again, blinking stupidly. “I beg your pardon?”

“If the monsters were to make a claim to birthright citizenship based on the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952 I believe the argument would hold up in court. The operative word in the statute is ‘persons’, and trying to argue monsters are not people is an argument you would lose. Neither public opinion nor the word of law will stand for declaring clearly sentient beings un-persons. They are already citizens, they need only assert their rights and so it shall be.”

“Only if you can prove they were born here,” Kimball groused. “How do you know they were born on US soil? They could have-”

“We have extensive records dating back to the time of the sealing one thousand years ago,” Asgore countered. “Censuses, birth records, marriages, naming ceremonies… funerals. We have taken great pains to preserve them, under the rationale that it might be all that was left of us by the time humanity found us again. I believe your historians will find them quite comprehensive.”

Silas did not want to give Governor Kimball the chance to catch his breath. “And of course the mountain and everything underneath it is solely their property.”

Governor Kimball threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “God damn it, are you going to whip out some other obscure law to-”

Silas curled his fingers to line up his fingernails, checking the undersides for dirt. “Hardly obscure. Mt. Ebbot is owned by the government but there is no current or planned usage for it. That means it’s public domain and subject to the General Mining Act of 1872. We and they believe there are valuable metal deposits inside the mountain and will submit a claim for mining rights. This of course would need to be dated retroactively, as they had no choice but to mine the caverns to carve out living space and could not submit the necessary paperwork due to the barrier. Failing that, they could also assert squatter’s rights.”

“Squatter’s…! There’s no way they could-”

“They could, actually. To claim squatter’s rights the possession of the land must be actual, open, notorious, exclusive, hostile, and continuous for a period of no less than twelve years.” He counted each of the conditions off on his fingers. “It is a well-known legend in the area that monsters live on Mt. Ebott, which satisfies actual, open, and notorious. Their occupation dates back to at least the ‘white beast’ story Mr. Weams has so helpfully reminded us of.” Weams paled a little at this. “That covers the continuous twelve-year minimum. Trespassers are known to never be seen again and nobody else lives on or in the immediate vicinity of the mountain, this satisfies exclusive and hostile. Thus, the land is theirs by right.” He looked over to Toriel with a practiced look. As they had rehearsed she nodded and Silas softened his tone. “But monsters aren’t like you and me, governor. They don’t want a nasty legal fight to strongarm their way into our country. They want an open and honest discussion, a harmonious melding of our societies. Simply grant to them what is already theirs and there does not have to be any animosity between us.” He hoped the quick turn to an alternative would keep the governor from noticing how flimsy the logic was; could an oddball story about a cryptid really constitute “open possession”? He would not want to argue that in front of a judge.

Governor Patrick drummed his fingers on the desk. “This office may enforce property rights but I can’t sign the deeds over to you with the stroke of a pen and you know it. How many… monsters, are we talking about here, anyway?” Excellent, he took the bait. Despite the governor’s obvious and growing displeasure, things were on the right track.

“Something on the order of fifteen thousand.”

Kimball’s response was hardly better than Silas’ when he first heard. “Fifteen-! Good god, how are we expected to deal with an influx of fifteen thousand all concentrated on a single city!” What he meant was, ‘How are we supposed to dislodge fifteen-kay people from inside a mountain?’ The answer was clear: ‘You don’t.’

“There’s no reason to assume they would all be confined permanently to Weymouth. They could be absorbed by some of the surrounding communities, or even out of the state.”

“And-!” His gaze went to Asgore and he swallowed. No doubt he was about to make some kind of protest about ‘letting these things loose’ but caught his tongue in time. “Even so, there are practical matters to consider.”

“We understand it will take time to process these new citizens. Registration, new social security numbers, allocating the staff and budget requirements for the same.”

Asgore spoke next: “We can be patient, to a degree. But monster citizenship will happen, Governor. We do not wish to assert ourselves, but we will do so if the alternative is to permanently stay in ghettos and accept non-citizen status.”

Toriel added, “Or being forced to remain underground. We have waited a very long time to be free, and we will not accept being stopped now.”

The governor got a faraway look in his eyes. “The thought has occurred to me,” he started. “If we take in this many… ‘domestic refugees’, for lack of a better term, all at once, it would be monumental strain on our infrastructure. Those Middle Eastern refugees the president wants our state to take in… we can’t accommodate them and the monsters at once. And if the monsters have nowhere else…” He eyed Weams, who nodded while cupping his chin.

It was disgusting to point that out, but Governor Patrick Kimball was in many ways a disgusting man. It started from a sound argument; there are limited resources, limited funds and space and manpower, and everyone wanted a piece of it. Hard choices needed to be made, and some people would have to go without. It seemed so simple, so logical, so unassailable. But there would always be some other group to prioritize over the others: we can’t afford to help women, there are too many poor people who need help; we can’t afford to help poor people, there are too many veterans who need help; we can’t afford to help veterans, there are too many children who need help; and on, and on. Silas knew a man who could sacrifice one group of people to save another would eventually make the decision to save no one at all. But still he accepted this from the governor, because he knew it would earn him the governor’s assistance in the short term. Currently not just New Hampshire but every state was under enormous pressure from the federal government to house incoming refugees from the Middle East, especially from war torn regions where Islam was the dominant religion. Patrick Kimball did not know the monsters, so his default position was optimistic distrust; he feared and hated Muslims, and given the opportunity to turn them away he would take it even if it meant offering aid to the monsters.

Silas shut his eyes and took in a breath. “You may have a point there, governor.” In the end Silas would hate himself for it, but it would get him the results he needed from people he disliked and who personally despised him. Indeed, even as Silas thought this Governor Kimball began stroking his chin. He was looking at monsters in a new light now, not as an imposition but as a gift which allowed him to weasel out of an obligation without suffering politically for it. Silas almost wished that had not worked as well as it had.

Kimball nodded. “I see, I see. I think we can work with that. As for the surrounding lands, that is certainly something we can discuss at a later time through the proper channels. Some of it, however, is not publicly owned. Beatrice Lincoln owns most of it, so you’ll have to discuss it with her either in person or in court.” Silas winced. This put a sympathetic smile on the governor’s face. “Ah, I see her reputation has reached your ears. Suffice to say I wish you the best of luck. How long are you giving us before announcing the existence of monsters publicly?”

Silas snapped his fingers, as if just remembering some minor detail. “Oh, there is one other thing. Frisk Holder has been found. You should announce that and tell everyone they will be delivered to a new foster family; as they are a minor no other information will be given and no interviews with them will be allowed until they are settled. Then you are going to release them into my custody. I expect to receive any records you may have on them, and any possessions their previous foster parents held for them should be delivered to my address.”

“You?!” the governor chuckled. “I highly doubt-”

“I am perfectly eligible to serve as a foster parent. I am over 25 years of age, with a regular source of income that allows for flexibility in my schedule and a clean criminal background. I have an available bedroom in my condominium they would not need to share with any adults. There are a few other state-level requirements, including a Home Safety Check I have scheduled in about three hours, but do you think I would come without all my t’s crossed and i’s dotted? Despite what you may have heard from the Texas bar I am somewhat competent.”

Patrick tapped a finger against his desk. “But the one actually taking care of the child will be…?” His eyes slid over to Toriel.

Silas said, “I am not required to answer that leading question and I do not see why it is your concern. Anything that happens to the child would be my sole responsibility. What guests I have in my home, how often, and what they do there are of no consequence so long as no direct or indirect harm comes to Frisk Holder. I will of course consent to the regular inspections and interviews to ensure the child is well-cared for. I… was hoping you would use your authority to fast-track the licensing I require.”

Something in the governor’s eyes sparkled and his lips curled upwards. “Oho, I see how it is now. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, is that it? Very well, I like a man who knows how the game is played. I will make a few calls and clear away the red tape for you. You doubtlessly have a lot of work with this… monster business, so I’m happy to take some of that off your plate and do a favor for Reginald Pembrooke’s son. In return give us… hm, three or four months on the citizenship issue. It will be a lot easier to take care of once this year’s budget numbers are in, and until then… well, that’s going to depend on what you can wrangle out of Ms. Lincoln. But as long as they stick to Weymouth for the time being I don’t think there will be any major problems with housing, opening businesses, or finding work. You would have to speak with your mayor for the specifics, but she’s an open-minded person. Real bleeding-heart type. Not like us, right?” He extended his hand for a shake and Silas returned it, pumping once. “I had my doubts about you, but you’re not bad.”

Silas forced a smile to his face. “Glad to see I meet your approval. We’ll have a press conference in Weymouth next week, preferably early. The legislature doesn’t meet until Wednesday and I’d like to take some pity on them and give them time to process this before then. But we also only have one chance to make a good first impression, so…” He shrugged. The governor nodded and waved him off. Just like that, the meeting was over.

On their way back to the truck Toriel whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “I do not see why that was necessary. It seems to me we just traded four months in legal limbo for a slip of paper.”

“Not at all. The process for becoming a licensed foster parent could take weeks in the best case scenario. In normal circumstances if I were not a legal foster parent right now I would not be able to keep Frisk Holder. In fact, most foster parents do not have much choice which youths are assigned to them. A good compromise might leave both parties unsatisfied, but an adequate compromise leaves both parties with something they want. We gave the governor time to bluster and pontificate, time you can use to ingratiate yourself to the local community. Give them time to get used to you in a way that makes it clear you are here to stay without trampling all over their peace of mind. In return, the governor sold Frisk up the river. He does not want nor care about the child, so he was happy to give them to us. So you see, each of us gave up something we could very much afford to lose and the other desperately needed.”

Toriel frowned deeply. “I would not use the words ‘sold up the river’. We care for Frisk and would never harm them.”

“I know that. He didn’t. As far as he knows he just acquiesced to a child getting abused, manhandled, and mistreated by creatures he doesn’t even consider human, and it will not cost him a single wink of sleep tonight. That is the kind of man the governor is no matter how he acts. He isn’t very bright but he is ruthless and dangerous. Do not ever, ever forget that.” He exhaled. “Still, we’ve cleared the first hurdle. That’s not nothing. The next step will be the press conference. There’s a lot of ground to cover and we’re only going to get one chance. First, you need to explain who you are and what you want. Second, some things about magic. The rest of the world needs to see the benefits to having monsters around. Third… you’re going to need to talk about the barrier. When it was made, how it worked, and how it was destroyed. The story as it exists is too convenient, they’re going to want to know why you’ve chosen now to come out.” He was fishing with that last comment, and the wide-eyed look on her face told him what he needed to know. The secret the monsters were hiding, the terrible crime they committed, was related to the destruction of the barrier. “Don’t say anything. We’ll discuss it when we’re alone.” He faced forward with a snap of his head, suddenly very eager to get back home.

* * *

Frisk laid on their bed, trying to make it feel comfortable. A new mattress was always a bit stiff before it’s been broken in a little, and it was especially uncomfortable when staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. No matter how many times Frisk experienced this they never got used to it. The room was empty; there were no stuffed animals, no toys, no posters, only the bed, a dresser, and a writing desk tucked away in a corner. It would have been better if they could have gotten some of their things from the previous family they stayed with, but it seemed that was going to have to wait. They could not reclaim any of their things until the system knew they had been found, and that would not happen until Silas…

Their heart fluttered a bit when they thought about him. “Hey Chara.” The ghost made a “hm?” sound to let them know they’d been heard. Chara floated above them parallel to the bed, as though they were sleeping on an upper bunk. Their back was toward Frisk, legs crossed and hands behind their head with their fingers intertwined. Unlike Frisk’s voice theirs did not produce the echo found in all unfurnished rooms. “You heard what they were talking about, right? Downstairs?”

Chara nodded. “Silas said he was going to become your foster parent, but it would probably be Toriel raising you. Then when monsters get their place in the human world she’ll adopt you officially. You’ll be Frisk Dreemurr soon, probably sometime in the next year. You won’t be a ‘placeholder’ any more.”

Frisk clutched their pillow, also a touch too stiff to be comfortable. “Wanted to say ‘m sorry,” they said. “You were s’posed to be their family. I want to live with them but I never meant to take your spot.”

The ghost shrugged. “You didn’t replace me. I was never their family. I wouldn’t let it happen then and it’ll never happen now.”

“But what if-”

“Stop. I just want to fix what I can. What happens to me after that doesn’t really matter.”

Frisk let their objection die in their throat. They knew what Chara thought, they knew perfectly well they could not change their mind. This did nothing to ease their anxiety or placate the dread in their heart. If there was no place for Chara to return to, what were they going to do when they finally succeeded in bringing Asriel back? Instead they asked, “What do you think about him? Silas?”

Chara was silent for a moment while Frisk’s anxiety built. It was impossible to tell Chara’s expression from the back of their head. “I don’t hate him,” they said finally. “But it’s hard for me to trust him. I don’t know what his motives are or what it would take for him to stab monsters in the back. I don’t think he cares about monsters one way or the other, not really. Who professes to do so much for people they met so recently? No, I really think he has some ulterior motive. I just wish I knew what it was.”

Frisk’s stomach twisted itself like a pretzel as Chara listed their doubts. “I don’t think he’s a bad person. He’s strong, in his head I mean. And even though he talks stern and mean he’s really nice, I can tell. And he wanted me. He asked for me. No one’s ever done that before. I just feel… I don’t know how to say it.”

“Frisk,” Chara repeated their name with a chill in their voice. “I doubt you have forgotten this, but the connection between our souls still exists. I can sort of tell what you’re feeling in a general sense. Happiness, sadness, anger, things like that. I was trying to end this conversation for your sake, but if you raise the piñata I’m going to take a swing at it. All of which is to say…” Chara spun in the air so they now looked down at Frisk, grinning from ear to ear and with a malicious gleam in their eye. “You li-ike him!”

Ack! Frisk covered their face with their hands and started giggling. “No I don’t! Well… maybe… I don’t know, I just…”

“Oh don’t get like that,” Chara said with a snicker. “I have to admit, for a human he’s not a bad catch. Wise, sophisticated, kind, and he clearly likes you back at least a little, even if it’s not in the same way.” They floated down to Frisk’s bedside with a put-upon sigh. “Little Frisky has a crush. They grow up so fast…!”

Frisk buried their face in the pillow and shook their head. “But he’s so much older… he’s prob’ly just being nice ‘cause he feels sorry for me…”

“If I were you I’d be more worried he’s going to be your foster dad within the next couple days. Prooooobably going to be tough to get a date out of him when he sees you as a kid.”

Frisk sighed. “Do you enjoy making fun of me that much?”

Chara’s smile softened. “Not really. I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I thought that’s what a friend is supposed to do, tease you about your crush. I didn’t mean for it to hurt.”

“It didn’t,” Frisk said. And it was true, mostly; Chara stopped when Frisk started getting annoyed, at least partly because they could tell Frisk was starting to get annoyed. “But if you wanna make it up to me… did you ever have a crush on anyone?”

“No!” The single word was shot out without thought, tinged with desperation and panic. It was the worst reaction they could have made.

Frisk shot up from the bed wearing Chara’s smile from a moment ago. “Oh? What was that, about how friends are s’posed to tease each other?”

Chara shook their head, not liking where this was heading at all. “It’s stupid.” Chara averted their gaze, a clear sign of weakness. “I-it was a quick thing, I got over it years ago.”

Frisk crept closer on their hands and knees. “So who was it?”

“Nobody you know!” Chara was desperately trying to avoid Frisk’s inquisitive stare, tilting their head this way and that as Frisk tried to look them in the eye.

“Pleeeeeaaaaase? I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“But it’s so embarrassing!”

“C’mon! You teased me about liking an older man, you can’t hold out on me!”

Chara licked their lips, blushing furiously. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? I mean it!”

“Of course I won’t. I mean, who would I tell?” Chara leaned close and cupped their hand around Frisk’s ear, whispering something to them. Frisk recoiled, a giant grin on their face. “AARON?!”

Chara squealed, “Not so loud!”

“Seahorse, lunkhead creep, ‘Check all you like!’, _that_ Aaron?!”

“ShutupshutupshutupIhateyou!” Now Chara was the one covering their face with their hands and shaking their head furiously.

“It’s just… a suprise! I mean, what did you see in him?”

Chara opened their finders and peeked between them bashfully. “… I thought his muscles looked neat. But I lost interest the moment he opened his mouth! I don’t like people with personalities like that. I don’t! Don’t look at me that way!”

“I didn’t egspect you to be the kind of person to like someone for their looks.” After another few seconds of awkward staring Frisk shrugged their shoulders. “Well, we’ll say you were young and didn’t know better.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Chara turned their head to the side as a series of soft thumps sounded up the stairs. Alphys poked her head in and looked around the room. “So this is going to be your room. Um, this is, uh, pretty spartan. I could… lend you some decorations if you wanted. Just to spruce the place up a little.”

Frisk shook their head. “Thanks. If I stay here I’ll add stuff myself.”

“Oh! Okay, that’s… good. Um, I was just wondering… if you wanted to watch some anime with me? I found this site that lets you watch all you want, all the time! And it’s even in the original Japanese voices with English subtitles!”

Chara whispered in their ear what subtitles were; Frisk wanted to cringe but controlled themself. “Sure, okay! But, um, can it have English voices? The subs are hard to follow.”

Alphys pursed her lips. She inhaled. She exhaled. “I… suppose. If it means that much to you. I’ll go get it set up, it should be ready by the time you get down here.” She then retreated down the stairs, muttering something about voice acting quality and script rewrites.

“You’re going to have to tell them you can’t read eventually,” Chara poked at Frisk. “I realize it’s tough but they need to know. The monsters and Silas have come this far for you already, they’re not going to ditch you because of it.”

“Maybe,” Frisk said as they dangled their legs over the side of the bed and dropped down on their feet. “But not right now.” If they were going to tell anyone, it would be Toriel or maybe Silas. They had nothing against Alphys, but it was not something she had to be the first to know. On their way out of the room they asked, “Oh, right. I meant to ask earlier, but… what made you take your name, ‘Chara’? The star is pretty, but I don’t know what drew you to it when you could barely see it.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Frisk stopped with their hand on the doorknob. It had been a while since they heard that phrase. Chara said it all the time when they first met, but as their journey through the Kingdom of Monsters continued Chara had become more and more receptive to Frisk’s curiosity. Being denied now felt almost like getting slapped. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Chara stepped on their words. “You had no way of knowing it was a sensitive topic. Even if I were inclined to answer it’s a fairly long story and Alphys is waiting for you.” Frisk nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Alphys had dragged one of the dining room chairs over to the computer so they could both sit and watch. Frisk took their seat nodded to let Alphys know they were ready. The screen was mostly clear, only a single web browser window open. That was when Frisk noticed a row of twenty or more tabs along the top of the window… Alphys had so many open the titles as well as the icons had been squeezed out of existence. “Alright, here we go! I already loaded up the show… let’s see, which one of these tabs was it…?” She clicked one open and was met with a solid block of text indecipherable to Frisk. Alphys’ eyes widened and she made a choking sound before she lunged with the pointer and opened a different tab. “Oh no! I-I, uh… that was nothing, just a little something Toriel asked me to look into! Nothing to worry about! Ah, here it is!” She clicked on a different browser tab and this time it brought up a video file. She set it to fullscreen and leaned back, clicking her index claws together.

Chara must have picked up on Frisk’s curiosity, because they floated down next to them while keeping their eyes on the screen. “Don’t react,” Chara warned. They licked their lips before informing them, “It was a list of search engine results for the phrase, ‘missing person Chara’.” Frisk only barely managed to avoid doing a double-take in Chara’s direction. Alphys was looking for information on Chara before they fell? And on Toriel’s orders?

But this method would fail. The child never went by the name ‘Chara’ on the surface, so Alphys would run into a dead end. Frisk knew the name she ought to have been looking for. Their birth name, their deadname. But… “You don’t even consider telling her.” The narration was half warning and half plea.

Frisk’s hands clenched around their knees. They understood Chara wanting to keep their former life private. Frisk was not exactly itching to tell Toriel their sordid history in public school and the foster care system. But they were looking. They _cared_. Even after more than 30 years Toriel still loved and thought of Chara. Didn’t that matter? Didn’t she deserve at least to know about the awful things Chara endured which led them to climb that mountain…?

Bubbly J-pop erupted from the speakers, prompting Alphys to turn down the volume quickly, but the burst of sound snapped Frisk from their thoughts. They tried to focus on the cartoon as best they could. Later. They could talk to Chara about it later.

 

 


	6. Waters Fall

_It’s only been a day and I’m already discouraged._

_The Undernet was based on the same data architecture and GUI design as the surface internet so using it was a snap. Unfortunately that’s where my good luck ended. Census data isn’t available for public reading for 72 years after it’s taken. Searching for their name hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Even looking for children who disappeared around that time got me nothing. I’m starting to think ‘Chara’ may have been a fake name, but even so you would figure there would be something in the news if a child vanished. I can’t imagine that going completely unmentioned anywhere. But there’s no record of a child going missing without being found 31 years ago anywhere in the tri-state area. It’s like they sprang into being in the Underground fully formed with memories of a surface they had never actually seen. Which is impossible, so I’m left wondering what’s actually going on here._

_I do have some good news. Info on the other six was much easier to find. Even though humans have a ton of newspapers and news organizations a lot of the big sites are just reprints of each others’ stories. That means most of my work has been sifting through dozens of stories that have maybe a couple words worth of difference from each other. I automated the process with a few spiders of my own design, the results of which are on the following pages. I’ve included the full articles for you to read through if you want, but you might not have the time right away? So I’ll give you the teal deer and you can check my work if you have the time. There was also some documentary on them released a couple years ago, but to be honest I didn’t watch it. I can read faster than people can speak, so it takes less time to just read it… you know? Still, I can show it to you if you want, just say the word._

_Anyway, we’ll go in the order they appeared starting with the cyan soul, Lilly. There’s a lot of speculation about the details since so much happened behind closed doors but here’s what I know for sure: She went missing 25 years ago, putting her arrival about four years after Chara’s death. Her family was from “Connecticut”, which… well, the simple way to explain it is that they’re a separate kingdom allied to the “New Hampshire” we’re in now. Ask Silas to tell you about how a democratic republic works sometime. Anyway, they were visiting her mother’s sister, a Ms. Beatrice Lincoln, who still lives in the area today. While they were there Lilly vanished into thin air. Her parents reported her missing immediately, believing she had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. But no ransom note ever materialized and no demands were ever made by the “kidnappers”. Which, uh, ought not to be surprising, considering we had no way of contacting them. And you didn’t kidnap her, obviously! But here’s where the story gets weird. About a week after Lilly went missing her father… he took his own life. He didn’t leave a note or any explanation, and his widow never offered one. She did, however, sign away her parental rights and even submitted a press release saying if Lilly was ever found she should be returned to Ms. Lincoln. There was a huge uproar; friends of the family said he wasn’t the type of person to kill himself and her mother loved Lilly and would want to take care of her. There were even accusations that Beatrice had the father killed and forced the mother to sign away her daughter. But the family refused any further contact with the media. Despite all the unanswered questions there was never any resolution. So there are a whole bunch of conspiracy theories about Lilly’s disappearance, of which “she fell into Mt. Ebott” is only one._

_While I’m on the subject, are you sure about visiting the surviving families? Some of the kids don’t have families anymore, some of them never did, and if half the stories I’ve found about Ms. Lincoln are true… well, I’m sure you and Asgore can take care of yourselves but it still makes me worry…_

* * *

 

Susan had barely gotten a hundred feet inside the cave when she began regretting everything. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the red heart on her chest blazing like a beacon to ensure her pursuer would not lose sight of her. Heavy footfalls dogged her steps, and she could still hear the chanting of, “Green means clean, green means clean!” behind her.

“I’ll take a shower later!” She ducked out of the way of a giant droplet of water which flew past at high speed. “Leave me alooooooone!”

She took a running leap over a portion of the river but fell short, landing on a flower in the middle of the stream. She was so surprised when it held her weight that she nearly slammed her shin into the opposite shore. She stumbled a bit but kept up her pace, terrified her misstep had evaporated any lead she might have had. She needn’t have worried; she heard rather than saw her pursuer stumble and roll with a cry of pain. The tingling in her skin vanished along with the red heart in the center of her chest. She skidded to a halt and dared to look behind her. The turtle-like creature was laying on its side, the glass dome on its back sporting a new crack. It groaned and winced as it tried and failed to stand up again. Before she could berate herself for how stupid she was being Susan hurried over to the fallen form and dug one of her precious Cinnamon Bunnies from her pocket. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“N-n-no,” the creature sniffled. “My leg’s hurt. And I slipped in the mud and got… I… I’m… dirty! _Dirty!_ ” Its voice became shrill and it vibrated as though trying to shake itself to pieces.

“Hey, it’s okay! I was told this food can heal injuries, so do you think that’ll be good for your leg?” She held up the Bunny to the creature’s mouth; after a brief moment of hesitation it devoured the treat in a single chomp. “For the dirt… um, gimme a second.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Seeing what she was doing the creature shakily got to its legs, turning red from embarrassment from being seen while so filthy. There was little she could do with it, but she at least cleared the large splatters of mud off and left only thin streaks of grime behind. The handkerchief was a lost cause, though. She hoped there was a trash can nearby.

The creature looked her up and down and the bird inside the glass dome chirped. “I am Woshua. I just want everything to be clean; I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“So you aren’t going to insist on cleaning me after all that, are you?”

“I can’t now,” Woshua grumbled. “Haven’t you heard the saying? ‘Remove the splash from your own clothes before removing the spot from mine’? I musn’t clean you while I’m so dirty!” They (it didn’t feel right for Susan to continue thinking of them as an “it” now that she knew their name) nodded resolutely, as though offended Susan would think they were so lacking in common sense.

Susan was pretty sure that was not how the saying went but decided not to correct them. “Oh, silly me! Of course you can’t!”

“If you need a breather, take that flower bridge over there and rest on the bench in the next room. I just cleaned it up so you won’t get any dirtier.”

“Really? Thanks! Um… listen, can you do me a really big favor? If you see anyone else, tell them about me and warn them _not_ to throw any of those bullet things at me.”

“Well… I guess so. I’ll be happy to spread the word! Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get home and finish cleaning myself before anyone else sees me… it would be a scandal if I were caught looking so… so _dirty_.” Susan let them go with a nod. While they were going slow and favoring one of their legs, they walked with a confidence that convinced Susan they would be okay. She turned away and investigated the bridge of flowers, eager to find that bench.

It did not take long. The flower bridge led to a small room with a park bench in the direct center facing the river. She did not even think to question it, flopping down with a sigh. She had barely gotten anywhere and she was already beat. Maybe coming here was a mistake… but it was her mistake. She was not going to back down now, Undyne avoided telling her about Waterfall for a reason and she was going to find out why.

She lazily took in the rest of the room. The sparkling stones on the ceiling were like tiny stars looking down from above. The flowing of the river provided a peaceful ambiance. Next to the bench a tall blue flower grew, a style and shape Susan had never seen. “I think I’m stupid because I _am_ stupid,” the flower said to her. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

Susan did a double-take. For one thing, talking flower! That was incredibly cool, but she kept her wonder and amazement in check for the moment. She had only heard it a few times so she could not be sure, but that flower sounded a lot like… “Frisk?”

The flower said back in her own voice, “Frisk?”

She shouted into the flower in a panic, “Wait! No! Say the other thing again!”

“Wait! No! Say the other thing again!”

Well, darnit. The stupid flower must repeat everything it hears like a mischievous toddler. She leaned back on the bench and sighed. She was fairly sure that had been Frisk’s voice, and it sounded like they were arguing with someone. But who had they met? This was such an out of the way place that their voice was still here days later, so it was hard to believe they met anyone here by accident. Maybe they were traveling with someone? And the tone of their voice was very different from how she remembered it. Frisk spoke little, and when they did it was slow and halting. They seemed sort of timid, to be honest. The Frisk from the flower was forceful, even belligerent. As for what they said… she frowned. The news reports had mentioned Frisk had never done well in school. Could they have internalized their academic failings as part of their character? At age eight? That would be something to follow up with them on. If she ever got out of here.

She looked over at the flower again. “Not much for conversation, are you?”

It replied in a snotty tone, “Not much for conversation, are you?”

She had to laugh at that.

* * *

A noise knocked Sans out of a fitful sleep. There was some commotion downstairs, but he did not think anything of it once he heard Undyne’s voice. He did not really like dealing with her; she was a bit too bombastic for him and never appreciated his style of humor. Wait a moment, didn’t Undyne go up to the surface? Eh, whatever, it was quiet now. Couldn’t have been that big of a deal. He nodded off again.

_Why did the humans attack? Indeed, it seemed they had nothing to fear._

When he woke again it was quiet. Undyne must be taking a nap. And after all the crap she gave him about his mandatory breaks. Well, what the hey. He might as well drop in downstairs and see what all the fuss was about. He tiptoed from his bed to the door, taking care not to step on any of the papers littering the floor. He would pick them up later. Ha ha, no he wouldn’t. As soon as he opened the door he could hear Undyne snoring. That woman could wake the dead. He took the stairs one at a time, his bones still a bit stiff from his extended depressive episode.

_Humans are unbelievably strong. It would take the soul of nearly every monster just to equal the power of one human soul._

A couple globs of a bluish-green slime had splattered on the floor. He recognized them instantly; that was not good at all. In a half panic he checked Undyne’s stats. Most of them were gibberish just like everyone else’s; a long line of 1’s and 0’s with no descriptions, explanations, or context. He had accepted defeat on ever making sense of them, with a few notable exceptions. She currently had 647/1500 HP and steadily rising; something must have knocked her down pretty hard, but she was on the road to recovery and her body was looking solid now. Her LV was at 3, the same as it was before everyone else left for the surface. It meant she had not been forced to kill a human yet, which was a positive. Or she had been forced to retreat without managing to kill anyone. “heya,” he greeted, causing her to stop snoring and open one annoyed eye. “get bored of the surface already?”

“Shut it,” she grumbled. “I had to run through Hotland carrying a load, and you know how much I hate that place. Plus Vulkin wasn’t kidding around; I had to take a couple hits for Susan while I hauled her out of there. Uh, Susan’s one of our new human friends. Don’t worry, she’s cool.”

Sans would be the judge of that. Or would he? When the king disbanded the Royal Guard did that mean he got fired too? He probably should have asked before everyone else left. Oh well. “one person shouldn’t have been too much trouble for you to carry. you could probably bench press five elementary schoolers.”

“Betcha I could do seven! But I swear Susan must have eaten bricks on the way over here or somethin’.” Undyne reached for the coffee table, grasping for something without looking. “What time is it anyway?”

“been about forty minutes since you got here. you brought a human down? where are they?”

“Probably running around Snowdin still,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe she stopped by the librarby or something. Hey, could you find out what she’s been up to? I’m not worried or nuthin’, just figured she could use a tour of the place.”

“and you thought of me to give it? eh, have to go to war with the army you’ve got i guess. i’m gonna mark it as time on the clock if that’s okay. want me to start a pot of coffee before i go? i know how bad those c3 attacks get.”

Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. “That’d help a lot, thanks.”

Sans was about to pour out the last dregs and rinse the pot when he was reminded the sink was about three times his height. This left him with only poor options; he could not affect himself with gravity magic, and his control was not nearly good enough to use it to guide the pot from the floor. He craned his neck to make sure Undyne could not see him, then edited the sink to be normal height. Dump, rinse, and return the sink to normal, all in seconds. He checked again; he was not staring into Undyne’s incredulous expression so she must not have noticed what he did. He set the coffee maker to pour hot water into the pot, and tossed a couple spoonfuls of instant coffee into the pot. Changing the filter and grinding the beans would be way too much work; helping out a fellow sufferer was all well and good but he had a reputation to uphold. His task complete, he walked out the door.

_But humans have a weakness. Ironically, it is the strength of their souls. Its power allowed it to persist outside the human body, even after death._

There were two ways of looking for somebody in Snowdin. First, there was the thorough way. He could wander around the town, looking for someone who did not belong. Even if he did not know them well Sans knew just about everyone in Snowdin; there was not much tourism even before the barrier broke, and now few people would want to move away from the site of the old barrier now that it had been broken. Snowdin was not terrible large so it would not take long. Then there was the other way.

“Hi Sans!”

“(Hello Sans!)”

“Hiya Sansy~!”

“hey,” Sans greeted as he sidled up to his usual place at the bar. However, he did not sit down. “sorry i haven’t been around, i had some things to check on. oh, have you heard? my younger bro is going to be the ambassador to the humans. cool, huh?”

Grillby nodded his head and signed, _You must be proud of him._ The flickering of his flames could make his hand signs difficult to read, but he was considerate and make them slowly to compensate. He then held up a bottle of ketchup, to which Sans waved his hand. Grillby replaced the bottle under the counter without another word.

“i am, grillbz. it’s the job he was born for. and hey, anything that keeps him out of science is okay by me. but what’s up with you all? anything interesting happen since that whole bright light knocked everyone out?”

 _You mean since the barrier broke?_ Grillby paused. _We keep on, as we always have. My daughter Fuku is eager to go to school on the surface. Perhaps we could live together again. Oh, and one of Frisk’s acquaintances stopped by the general store. They did not come here, but Esme saw them heading toward Waterfall._

“oh yeah? by themself?” Grillby nodded and Sans rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He really did not want to have to search through the whole place for the human. Besides, Waterfall was Undyne’s beat. She could give an effective tour of that place much better than he could. Perfect, he could throw her own assignment back to her. He loved it when everything worked out like that. “thanks. i’ll be right back, just have to let the boss know where her charge ran to.” He waved over his shoulder as he left Grillby’s to a chorus of “Bye!”s and “See you later!”s.

When Sans came back Undyne was exactly as he had left her. She opened one eye to stare at him with an expectant look. She had regained a couple hundred HP, so she should be fine to move now. Might as well lay it out then. “just wanted to let you know susan the human went off to waterfall.”

Undyne shot up from the couch. “She did what?!”

_If a monster defeats a human, they can take its soul. A monster with a human soul… A horrible beast with unfathomable power._

“woah, that got a reaction out of you. is it a problem?”

“Of course it’s a problem!” Undyne paced around the room, filled with nervous energy. “Have you forgotten that it’s like a museum? The plaques have the history of the human-monster conflict, and if she reads those she’s going to know how we broke the barrier!”

He scoffed. “you mean you didn’t tell her from the start? clearly that was a bad strategy.”

Undyne ignored his snark and ran into the kitchen. “Not to mention if another monster attacks them… Sans, do you have any idea how completely doomed we are if the first human we bring here, and a friend of the only human allies we have on the surface, ends up dead?” She took the pot of coffee and drank directly from the pot, making a face. “Ugh, why is your coffee so bad? And your brother makes such a great cup.” She tore open the top of a cereal box and grabbed handfuls, stuffing them into her mouth. “Ahywheh, we hoffa fin’ her!”

“hm, i see your point.” If anything happened to the human Undyne brought down, would that be bad enough to cause Frisk to reset? Could be. Damn it, did he just sleep through the event that would undo everything? If that was the case he could not afford not to care anymore. So, while her back was turned… “alright, i’ll go on ahead.”

He reached into his own file and changed his location to “room_water_trashzone_1”. His surroundings blinked away; he was no longer standing on a hardwood floor but on a patch of golden flowers floating in the middle of an awful-smelling stream. Instead of walls mountains of garbage loomed on either side of him, and just to his right water tumbled into the void below. He glanced around but did not see anything out of place. Maybe he should have gotten a description of the human from Undyne? Nah, it would be fine. Even if most monsters literally couldn’t identify a human on sight, he had an ace up his sleeve. Most people only had one set of stats. He had only met three people who had two sets of stats: one of them was that flower that appeared at the end, while the other two had been humans. He theorized it had something to do with the power of the anomaly; one set of stats dictated how the world would react to them, the other was their own personal set of stats based on their experiences in other timelines. In other words, having the power to rewind time caused there to be such a disconnect between them and everyone else that it affected their file. He wondered if he would have seen a second statline on Chara if he’d had this ability back when they were alive, then set that thought aside. The point was, if he saw two sets of stats he would know he was looking at a being with enough determination to at least keep their memories through a timeline event. Statistically speaking they were likely to be a human.

_The humans, afraid of our power, declared war on us. They attacked suddenly and without mercy._

He changed his location to “room_water12”. Nope, no dead bodies here either. He figured if the human had died on the environment it would be in one of these places where the water was deepest, so in a way it was encouraging that he came up empty. He edited his location one more time, to “room_water_onionsan” and whistled once he settled into his new place. The top of a head poked out of the water like a tiny island. “Oh… hey there… Sans… didn’t notice you… coming.”

“don’t sweat it, onionsan,” Sans said. “hey, got kind of a weird question for ya. have you seen a human walking around? today, i mean?”

A stream of bubbles emerged from the water as Onionsan shook his head. “Not today, sorry.” He lifted himself out of the water to give his dopey smile. “But! There’s a stranger with a big coat that was nice to one of the Woshuas! We’re not supposed to greet them with bullets… I guess they’re shy.”

“izzat so? they could be, onionsan.” So the human had not yet fallen prey to the deep water and was not in danger from the monsters. That was good to hear. Still it left the nagging question: where the heck did she go?

* * *

_In the end, it could hardly be called a war. United, the humans were too powerful and us monsters, too weak. Not a single soul was taken, and countless monsters were turned to dust._

Susan reread the plaque, hoping that if she saw it again the words would change. Her fingers traced over the words “turned to dust”, immediately grasping the meaning. Not one? Humans were so much stronger than monsters that… they were all just slaughtered? Without killing even one of their attackers? She put her back to the wall and slowly slid down as her legs buckled from underneath her. Her butt hit the floor and she stared out into nothing. She wrapped her arms around her knees, shivering. Dead. So many monsters were dead at the hands of humans. He remembered Undyne's wide-toothed grin. Toriel's patient smile. Papyrus' exuberance. Asgore's gentleness. They had been wary, but so genuinely happy to see Silas and the rest of them. How? Faced with the same race which murdered their kind out of fear, how could they be so trusting and carefree? What had… what had humans ever done to earn forgiveness from the monsters?

“heya.”

When Susan looked up there was a white sheet hovering in front of them. The ghost had wide eyes and a thin line for a mouth, and wore nothing but a snazzy top hat. “you’ve been reading the murals, huh? i try not to. they’re a little depressing.”

Susan laughed a little, but stopped when they noticed the ghost had the same blank expression. She tried to shift gears, “Who were you, when you were alive?”

The ghost shimmied back and forth in an approximation of a head shake. “alive? i’ve never been alive. oh… you must be another human. i’m napstablook. the hat… um, it’s name is dapperblook.”

“My name’s Susan.” She tried to smile but only managed to pull her lips tight. “It’s a good hat. Looks cute.”

“oh. thanks. that’s good. mettaton wants me to wear it all the time from now on. he says it will ‘improve my brand’. oh, mettaton is a robot tv star. he’s at my house today looking to start a band with me and shyren. you can come listen to us ‘jam out’, if you want. i’m sure he’d love to meet you. but you don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Her eyes went down again. “So he can take my soul?”

“he would never do that. he really likes humans. idolizes them, even.”

She could only scoff. “Can’t see why. We’re awful.”

Napstablook stared at her for a long moment with an unreadable look on his face. “i had a cousin that thought the same way he does… they loved humans and even started a fan club for them. i didn’t understand them either. but the humans i’ve met have all been nice, so maybe there was something to it. you would have to ask him why he feels that way. i’m not saying that to pressure you, though. you can stay here if you’d rather.”

Susan shook her head and untangled herself. “No… no, I’ll go with you.” She braced herself against the wall for support to stand, feeling like she was moving through molasses. “It’s… not far is it?”

“there’s a hill to get from here to there. there used to be a way through the dump, but undyne smashed the bridge while she was chasing the human and it’s really dangerous now.”

Susan opened her mouth to ask another question but closed it again. Why wouldn’t Undyne have reacted violently to a human in the Underground? The humans had taken their lives, taken the sun, taken their freedom. What reason would any monster have to suspect a human underground meant anything but returning to take the little they had?

As promised, it did not take long to reach Napstablook’s house. They went down a small hill, passed by a sparkling blue pool, and from there went through a short passage. Two houses stood next to each other, constructed in an odd fashion so they appeared to be drooping away from each other. In front of one of the houses was… another human? When she looked closely she could tell it was not; the body was wrong, and while the face was lifelike there was a sheen to it that no amount of makeup could replicate. “Yoohoo!” the creature called out, waving its noodle-like arm. “Looks like my premonition was right on target. The big-coat stranger _is_ a human!”

Napstablook explained, “a woshua told us about someone who was nice to his cousin who didn’t want bullets thrown at them. mettaton figured out you were human just from that.”

“It’s no secret bullets are dangerous to humans,” the creature (Mettaton?) said. As he spoke his arms weaved through the air in wide, flowing movements and his body turned this way and that for emphasis. Much like some people spoke with their hands as much as their voice, Mettaton’s entire body became a conduit for enunciation. “Brains and beauty. I really am the total package!”

“You sure know a lot about humans,” Susan said while staring at her shoelaces. “I don’t… I can’t see what makes you think we’re so great. We never gave you a chance, we just… killed so many of you and stuck the rest under the earth to rot. Now I know why Undyne didn’t want me knowing this; most people would never believe you were willing to forgive us. I… don’t know if _I_ forgive us. Ha, no wonder the people in the capital were so scared of me. They remember that far back, huh?”

Mettaton blinked. “Well, if it’s the capital that probably has more to do with the massacre.”

Susan whipped her head up, the sick feeling in her stomach redoubling. “The _what_?”

“oh no,” Napstablook panicked, their hat drooping over their head to cover their eyes. “i thought you already knew since you’d been through the capital. we didn’t mean to upset you. oh no…”

Mettaton waved them off, “She would have learned from somebody if not from us. Hmmmm let’s see, I think it was seven or eight years ago? It was before I, er, was activated anyway. A human made it into the capital and oh my was it awful! They may have been a child but they still killed thirty or forty monsters before the Royal Scientist showed up and… stopped them.”

The human swallowed and clenched her teeth. One human, just one, killed so many monsters, and at the end… “Alphys? Alphys did that?”

“What? No! Alphys would never hurt anyone. She’s far too much of a softy. It was the Royal Scientist before her… hm, it was…” Mettaton snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the name. “Gaster! Yes, that was it, Dr. Gaster! Not many other monsters could kill a human single-handedly. I mean, even a superb specimen such as _moi_ failed to kill Frisk even when I was putting all my prodigious talent to-”

Susan took a step backward, feeling ready to scream. “You… you tried to kill Frisk? You?! I thought- Napstablook said you loved humans!”

Mettaton paused in mid-gyration. His head swiveled around to look deep into Susan’s eyes. “… Nobody told you _anything_ , did they?”

“NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

An explosion between them kicked off a massive cloud of dust. Susan had to take a step backward and cover her eyes and mouth to keep the debris from entering, and even that did not prevent a few coughs. As the cloud thinned Susan risked opening an eye to see a panting and manic-looking Undyne glaring at her. “There you are!” she shouted. “Didn’t I warn you not to leave Snowdin? You could’ve at least waited for me! What was I gonna tell your friends if you got hurt and I wasn’t there to protect you, huh?!”

“Undyne…” Susan bit her lip, burying the apology for leaving town deep in her stomach. Instead she pointed at Mettaton and ordered, “Undyne, call the police so they can arrest this… monster! He tried to kill Frisk!”

Undyne looked from Susan to Mettaton and back again. Her scowl disappeared, to be replaced with a look of deep shame. “Uh… yeah. I think… most of us in the Kingdom tried to kill Frisk at one point or another.” She held up a hand to stop Susan’s protest. “If this is as far as you’ve gotten, there’s one more set of plaques you should read. They’ll explain everything. Just… please try to understand.”

Susan clutched at her chest. There was such pain in her heart, such a tightness in her throat, that she did not know how she would ever recover. The monsters were so nice. They were so lovable and friendly. So why? Why would the whole kingdom, all of monsterkind, try to murder a child? How could they even think such a thing?

She got her answer after a short walk.

_Hurt, beaten, and fearful for our lives we surrendered to the humans. Seven of their greatest magicians sealed us underground with a magic spell. Anything can enter through the seal, but only beings with a powerful soul can leave. There is only one way to reverse this spell. If a huge power, equivalent to seven human souls, attacks the barrier it will be destroyed._

Seven. Her throat felt dry; she swallowed saliva but it was like pouring a thimble into the Sahara. A horrible suspicion bloomed in her mind. Seven souls. Seven coffins. Six kids, with Frisk being the seventh. She turned to stare directly at Undyne. To her credit Undyne did not look away, meeting Susan’s gaze even if her eyes wavered. “Undyne. Over the last few decades, six children went missing from Weymouth. Nobody’s ever seen or heard from them again. Frisk would have been the seventh. You don’t… do you… were they…?” Undyne jutted out her chin and a deep shame suffused into her eyes, which was all the confirmation Susan needed. It was true.

She wiped at her eyes with her hands but it was no use. No matter how much she rubbed they were still wet and burning. “What the hell,” she croaked. “What the hell! How… how could you?”

Undyne took a breath before starting, “Listen, I asked you to try and understand-”

“No, no, I understand. You’ve lived your whole life underground. No fresh air, no sun, only darkness for centuries. And there was a way out, a simple solution to free all your people. All you had to do was _murder six children_!” Her voice rose to a shout at the end as she stuffed all her indignation and betrayed hopes into the accusation.

Undyne’s face strained in a tight wince. “C’mon, it wasn’t like that!”

“Then tell me how it was! Please, tell me they died natural deaths! Tell me they got sick, tell me there were accidents, tell me anything!” Each of her exhalations threatened to devolve into uncontrollable sobs but maintained their position on the boundary. She looked to Undyne imploringly. “Can you? Please, I’m begging you, tell me I’m wrong. The monsters… no monsters killed them, right?”

For a moment Susan dared to believe there was some other explanation. She would have accepted anything; she would have believed any story no matter how contrived or ridiculous. She did not want to believe the monsters were capable of this. But then Undyne hung her head and that hope flickered and died. So she unbarred the gates and let the tears out.

She didn’t want to reject the monsters. The memories of the campfire, the fun they had on the drive to Silas’ condo, even the banter she had shared with Undyne on the way here. She liked the monsters… no, she loved them, even after Silas warned her. She didn’t want to give them up. But it was too much. She had only met them yesterday, and she was being asked to accept this part of them right out of the gate? And no, they didn’t deserve to live in darkness forever… but what about those kids? Did they deserve to die so the monsters could be free?

Undyne reached out to give her a comforting hug. Just a few hours prior Susan would have happily dived into that embrace. Now her arms seemed like the doors of an iron maiden ready to slam shut around her. She shrank away from them, curling in on herself. The movement was not lost on Undyne, who let her hands fall helplessly. “Please,” Susan said, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t kill me. I won’t… I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I-I just want to go home.”

Undyne stared at her for a moment before turning with military precision. “I’ll lead you out of the Underground,” she said, and walked on. “Follow me.” Susan let her get a few steps ahead and followed, still clutching her elbows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some people really liked the original version of this chapter, where Susan immediately accepted what the monsters did and understood their point of view, but the more I thought about it the more I realized Susan wouldn’t think it fair to the children who died to forgive so easily. It also leaves nowhere for her character to go; it’s more meaningful to the character and the story if she has to struggle a little. She doesn’t hate the monsters for what happened, not at all, but she needs more time to process this before saying everything is okay.


	7. It Always Comes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some bits reused and/or repurposed from an earlier version of this chapter, but the changes are myriad and significant enough that it should be treated as “new”.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of transphobia and unsupportive parents, as well as thoughts and rationalizations potentially similar to ones a child might use to minimize/deny their own abuse.

_There’s a little bit of a disconnect here; the Purple soul is the second soul we gathered, but the Green souled human was the third to fall down (counting Chara as the first, naturally). The Kindness soul must have stayed with you for a long time. I feel like during that time she must have told you most of what I found out already and a lot more besides, so I’m including this information for the sake of completeness. You might want to give this to someone else after all, and they won’t have the same background info. You said her name was Marijane but on the surface she was born as Wendell Sunapee, and all the official records still list her as a boy. Dr. Gaster’s old documents claimed that humans are given a gender at birth based on their physical shape, which seems completely backwards to me? But Silas told me they still do this, so, hm. Marijane rebelled against her assigned gender starting from when she was still very young, preferring dresses and skirts to pants and asking when her “girl parts” would come in. At first her parents thought it was a phase, but her feelings only grew stronger as time passed. They tried to force her to live as a boy; instead she got friends from school to give her their old clothes so she could wear them in secret. Her parents found out about this hobby and their reaction was… bad. So bad she fled the house that night. They have since made a public apology and even went on television to ask their daughter for forgiveness and to come home, but of course it didn’t work. She could never have received their message underground, or returned even if she wanted to. They are still alive and still miss their little girl, though they are no longer together. All things considered I can’t recommend Asgore meet with them but… I think if you can forgive them, they would really like to talk with you._

_As for what happened to her, or any of the humans after they left you… I’m sorry. I didn’t have the authority or resources to add the surveillance system to the Underground until after the sixth human’s massacre, when public demand forced Dr. Gaster to stop vetoing my every request to set up the cameras. I never found out why he was so against it… he was the Judge, how was he making his decisions on whether a human was worthy of meeting Asgore if he never even saw the humans before the Judgment Hall…?_

* * *

Silas took a slight detour on the way home; Frisk needed new clothes posthaste. He could get the rest of their clothing when he was officially their foster parent or even take them to the store to get a whole new wardrobe tomorrow if he had to, but for now he just needed a clean outfit to put them in. To that end he got a variety of shirts and shorts of slightly different sizes to make sure at least one set would fit. He also grabbed a set of socks and underwear ( _Briefs or panties?_ , he asked himself before shrugging and buying both) on his way to the registers. He was leery of leaving the monsters in the car alone, especially with Asgore and Toriel crammed together in so close an environment, but after Chad bailed he did not dare ask Marty to do this errand alone and time was running out. It turned out not to be big deal; he was in and out of the clothing store in fifteen minutes and when he returned Papyrus was leading the two boss monsters in an in-depth discussion of puzzle theory. Asgore and Toriel were co-operating, arguing about the need for a gentle hand and that the consequences of failure should be minor and non-permanent, while Papyrus insisted an element of danger was necessary to evoke the right mood. Silas had nothing to offer on the subject and simply left them to it as they drove home.

He had barely parked the car in the garage before he started giving commands, “Toriel, deliver the clothes to Frisk and get them in the bath, I want them clean and dressed again within the hour. As soon as you do come back downstairs. Asgore, Papyrus, pull Alphys away from whatever she’s doing and stay in the living room. Get comfortable; I somehow doubt the discussion we’re about to have is going to be any fun.”

A few moments later Frisk was in the bath, where they would not be intruding into any difficult conversations. Alphys nervously glanced from side to side from her seat in the middle of the couch, Papyrus and Toriel flanking her. Asgore stood proudly on the side of the room opposite Silas. Marty kicked back in the recliner, wondering why everyone had really serious expressions all of a sudden. “Uh.” Everyone turned toward Martin. He smiled awkwardly at everyone. “Should I… step away for a minute? This looks pretty serious, and-”

“No, you stay,” Silas insisted. “You have as much of a right to know as I do. Asgore, Toriel, everyone. Is there something we should know about before we continue helping you? Something about the barrier and how it was destroyed?”

Alphys wrung her hands together, a fine silt leaking from between her hands to pile into her lap. “A-Are you… really sure you want to know? I mean… what are you going to do if it’s… a crime?”

In other words, it _was_ a crime. Sometimes Silas hated being right. “I am a defense counsel. When someone has committed or been accused of committing a crime I stand by their side and try very hard to make sure they do not get punished. I have defended thugs, thieves, murderers, and rapists. Some of them were innocent of the crimes of which they were accused; many were not. Their ultimate guilt or innocence was, as far as I was concerned, irrelevant. It was my job to defend them so I did. The police are under pressure to solve crimes and close cases; they will not respect a suspect’s rights if those rights get in the way of peace. In a courtroom the prosecutor’s job is to use all available evidence to prove the defendant is guilty. Most are above-board and will play by the rules, but not all of them. Some will conceal evidence which contradicts their narrative, use witness testimony they know is unreliable, or even falsify evidence to catch someone they ‘know’ is a bad guy. My job is to make sure my client’s rights are protected, and that the state has the evidence to prove my client did what they claim. I’m there to make sure everyone else is doing their job properly, because if I don’t the system will chew up anyone that gets thrown into it without caring about whether it’s right or just or fair.

“In a courtroom I am very frequently the only friend an accused person has. No one else is looking out for them. No one else cares what happens to them.” He looked at her. “I don’t care what you’re hiding. I will be on your side regardless. I can’t not.”

Papyrus nodded solemnly. “I see,” he said. “This is the form your justice takes. Papyrus approves!” He gave him a thumbs up. “Your majesties, I think we can trust Silas. He has done so much for us already without asking for anything in return. The least we can do is put our faith in him.”

Silas warned, “I will need you to tell me everything, every last dirty secret that humanity might fear and hate you for. Whether it’s as major as detonating nukes or as minor as farting in church, I need to know about it. If I know about it I can help you prepare for it and mitigate the damage. If I get surprised you’re sunk.”

Toriel hesitated. “Will knowing our secrets not cause problems for you? Would it be easier for you to defend us if you do not know?”

He shrugged. “If I’m defending you I can’t be forced to testify against you in court, and knowing all the details will allow me to put forth a better legal strategy. That being said, once you’ve admitted to me you’ve done something I can’t ethically claim you didn’t do it. But there is a vast gulf between telling a prosecutor ‘they did not do it’ and ‘you cannot prove beyond a reasonable doubt they did it’, and that should be more than sufficient.” He chose to remain silent about how if things actually got so bad that the monsters were dragged into a criminal hearing they had probably already lost. By that point public opinion would be so soured on the monsters that integration would be nearly or completely impossible.

Toriel and Asgore looked at each other. Toriel nodded once, then Asgore said, “Your terms are acceptable. We will hold nothing back.”

Silas took a deep breath through his nose. “We’ll start with the incident thirty years ago, the ‘white beast’ legend.” The crestfallen look on their faces was answer enough. “Alright, so you were involved in that. You’ve been told what the human version of events was. What was the monster perspective?”

Toriel swallowed and stared at the tablecloth. “That ‘white beast’… was our son, Asriel. He was distraught by the death of his human friend and crossed the barrier to bring them home to rest.”

Clearly this had been the wrong question to ask first. He felt like he had walked into the third reel of a film. “I need to ask you to back up a bit. There were humans in the underground?”

Toriel and Asgore stiffened noticeably. It was Papyrus who filled in the silence: “Oh! This is a very old story! You see, there were no humans in the underground for a very long time. Then one day a child fell in the deepest part of the underground. Asriel found them and helped them back to the castle, and that’s how Chara came to live with the royal family! Not many people ever saw the human Chara, but whenever they did it was almost always in Prince Asriel’s company. They were the very best of friends! But one day Chara became very sick, and died shortly after. After their death they-” Papyrus cut himself off. “Oh, perhaps this isn’t a story I should be telling.”

“It is fine, Papyrus,” Toriel said gently. “He said we should tell him everything. You see, a human soul is very powerful, so strong it continues to exist for a little while after their death. During that time a monster can absorb the human’s soul and obtain great power. That was what Asriel did; he absorbed Chara’s soul and became strong enough to cross through the barrier. He was attempting to return Chara’s body to the human village, which we now know was Weymouth. But…”

Asgore stepped in, “We did not see what happened on the surface. We only know our son returned gravely wounded. He said… he very strongly asserted he did not fight back. Then he… he died in our arms.”

Silence descended over the table. Silas bit his knuckle and shut his eyes tight. No wonder Asgore and Toriel were at each other’s throats. He did not have direct experience in this but it was common knowledge that very few couples survived the death of a child. “I see. I… am sorry for your loss.”

“It is a very old story,” Toriel echoed, her voice hollow.

“Not nearly old enough,” he was unable to stop himself from saying. “So the barrier prevented monsters from leaving. A monster who absorbs a human soul can leave, but they can’t destroy the barrier. So how, exactly, was it destroyed? Why only now, after what you claim is a thousand years?”

“We are unsure,” Asgore said. “We were, all the monsters, rendered unconscious. When we awoke the barrier was gone. Frisk may know more but so far they refuse to speak of it and I do not wish to hurt them by prying.”

Toriel simmered, “You know you are not answering the question, Dreemurr.” She looked at Silas. “We have some idea how they did it. The only thing which could break the barrier was seven human souls working in concert. Asgore had already collected six, and Frisk was the seventh.”

“Hold up. You… ‘collected’… six human souls?” Here they were. The meat of the matter. He took a breath to steady himself. “You already know what I’m going to ask.”

“Children.” Toriel stared hard at Asgore, who shrunk from the glare. “The souls of six children. They climbed Mt. Ebott, and the monsters who should have been their allies were instead told to harvest their souls. On the orders of the king! Six children died for our freedom!”

“Six dead kids.” Silas tapped his fingers together, his expression darkening. He was expecting worse, but this was still very bad. Ha, that was understating the problem, wasn’t it? He glanced at Marty, who had paled noticeably. Marty swallowed as he returned Silas’ gaze, his face grim. Silas ran his fingers through his hair and growled, “Six dead kids, _fuck!_ ” He took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. “Is this true?”

“It is true,” Asgore said, his voice breaking. “After Asriel’s death I promised our people freedom and that I would use seven human souls to do it. I ordered the humans to be brought before me so I could claim their souls. But I… I lost my nerve. Four times a child was dragged to me in chains, and each time I ordered them imprisoned. I said there was no need to kill them until we had the seven we needed. I thought I could protect my people and the humans both, by keeping them separate until the time came to break the barrier. But I was wrong; each time they died in custody and their soul was captured. I suspected foul play but try as I might I could never track down the perpetrator.”

Silas crossed his arms. “Any suspects?”

“A few. Quilt, the Captain of the Royal Guard at the time, had responsibility of the prisoners and would have had no trouble gaining access to them. But she was maintaining peace in the capital when the second human died and she was with me when the third child died. She had no alibi for the fourth child and resigned rather than head an investigation in which she was a suspect. Her successor, Doge, was called away to Waterfall because a child attacked a postman and could not have killed the fifth. The previous Royal Scientist Dr. Wing Din Gaster was the prime suspect for each murder, but his EXP was still 0 and his LOVE 1 even after the death of the fifth human. He _did_ , however, kill the sixth human in self defense. She escaped into the capital and went on a rampage, killing dozens of my subjects before Dr. Gaster stopped her. She-”

“Lies!” Toriel slammed her palms down on the table. The temperature of the room jumped five degrees at once and felt hotter by the moment. “She was a sweet girl with an upright moral character! She loved to dance, she sang, she listened to me talk about snails with such wonder in her eyes. She would not want to hurt anyone. She would never have killed anyone, let alone…!”

Asgore shook his head. “I did not want to believe it either. But we have camera footage. We have photos of rooms full of dust. We have families broken, friends lost, children orphaned. I do not know her reasons, but the child did these things.” Toriel made no reply. She balled her paws into fists and stared into them, teeth clenched.

Silas held up a hand. “And… a _child_ did that? How could one human kill so many of you?”

Asgore opened his mouth, then closed it again while looking away. “I… do not know if it is a good idea to say this, but human souls are much stronger than monster souls. If a human means to do us harm, even a child can kill one of us with ease. I may be this size with commensurate strength, but a human filled with hatred or fear could kill me with one blow, however clumsy or ill-fitting the weapon may be.”

“So you’re saying that not only are you accepting blame for the murder of children committed by your subjects, but any retaliatory strike by a human seeking revenge would be almost certainly fatal.” He felt an icy fist of despair close around his heart. It was impossible. Someone would surely try to take justice into their own hands, the families of those children if no one else. If there were even a single successful attack all of humanity would know how weak monsters were. Humanity’s track record concerning people weaker than the dominant cultural force was… rather poor. If the monsters were lucky humanity would find some use for monsters and enslave them. If they weren’t… then damn it, the monsters really were correct to fear genocide. He pushed that to the back of his mind. He could gnash his teeth about all this later in private, he would not fall to pieces in front of his clients. He would not! “Where is this Dr. Gaster now?”

Asgore’s response was simple and final: “Dead.” Toriel shivered at this; did she not know? “He resigned his posts as Royal Scientist and Judge after the incident but continued working in the labs. There was an accident during one of his experiments; the dust of the victims was never recovered, but the lone survivor of the incident said Gaster fell into his creation and vanished.”

“What about the seventh human? The last before Frisk?”

Asgore shook his head. “Killed himself. My new Judge brought them to me with a head wound caused by their own weapon, a ‘gun’. He hoped I would be able to heal the child, but the damage was far too great. He never told me how it happened and I, the coward, never asked.” Papyrus audibly sucked in air between his teeth and tapped on the table in a nervous staccato but said nothing.

A chill went down Silas’ spine as he realized something. “And… Frisk? What of them? I find it hard to believe you would have just let them go. They were the last soul you needed. It’s what you needed to break the barrier. You aren’t going to tell me nothing happened, are you?”

Asgore closed his eyes. “You would need to get the story of their journey from them. Frisk came to me on their own feet, but not of their free will. They had no choice; my castle is directly in the way of the barrier. Moreover they needed my soul. A human soul by itself is not strong enough to cross the barrier; only a human soul and a monster soul combined may leave. Monster souls vanish instantly and cannot be absorbed, with one exception: Boss Monsters, like Toriel and myself, have slightly stronger souls which persist for a moment or two after our deaths. In order for Frisk to leave the Underground they had to kill me. I was prepared to fight and most likely lose… but everyone came and stopped us.”

Could he trust Asgore? The stories certainly seemed convenient, neatly absolving any living monsters of all direct blame. A little too pat, a little too perfect. “Where are the corpses?”

“I placed them in coffins fashioned for the purpose… one held the first human, Chara. Toriel took their body with her when she left. The other six hold the children who came after. We are prepared to turn them over to the surviving families of the children as soon as reasonable.”

“I assume this is all common knowledge among the monsters. We’re never going to be able to keep all of them quiet so we might as well not try. The secret would get out, secrets _always_ get out, especially when so many know them. So… you’ll have to admit it. Come clean, in public and without hiding anything. If what you said is true, then nothing that you’ve done is actually a prosecutable crime; saying you will kill people is not a crime, even saying children deserve to die isn’t a crime, so it’s the court of public opinion where we’ll be making our case.”

A fire lit up in Toriel’s eyes as she realized what Silas was saying. “You want him to escape punishment.”

“No,” Silas explained. “I want _all_ of you to escape punishment. There’s no reason to think any retribution will end with Asgore, so our best bet is to make sure it doesn’t get started. And I think I know how to do it. First we humanize you, if you’ll pardon the expression. Tell some stories about Chara and Asriel, play up the sympathy. If we can make the public feel your sorrow they will be more inclined to think kindly of you. Make the public see you as grieving parents and caring leaders, help them understand the desperation of living underground for generations. It won’t convince anyone killing children is correct but it will stay their hands from revenge long enough for other arguments to get through.”

Toriel hugged herself, shivering. “It feels ghoulish to use their deaths like that.”

“But it’s the truth. Everything that happened is because of grief, yours and Asgore’s. There’s no reason to hide that, in fact it can excuse quite a lot. Second, mitigate the circumstances and muddy the waters. Toriel can describe her interactions with the children; Asgore, you can play up your inability to follow through on your own orders. Pull up the results of your investigations into the deaths of the second through fifth children, the police may want to pick up where you left off. Whatever evidence you have for the sixth child’s crimes be ready to present it and prove she was a legitimate threat. Get your judge up here and have them talk about the seventh child, you may not have asked before but if they know something it needs to come out. By showing our hands so willingly it will be difficult for people to say we are hiding something and harder still for them to find a single point to focus on. Bury the humans in information, so by the time they have processed it all the media will have moved on. Third, diffuse responsibility among all the monsters. What is a horrible crime for a person is a statistic for a nation. If we keep it simmering without allowing it to boil over for long enough, then eventually it won’t matter; monsters will have gained a foothold on the surface, and will be too valuable to punish. There is a great deal that a person will overlook when their continued comfort relies on them not acknowledging it.”

“ _Jesus._ ” All eyes went Marty was sitting up at the couch and looking at Silas in a mixture of horror and respect. “This is how you work? God damn. One, I think you’re a piece of shit for trying to whitewash child murder. Two, I _so_ want you as my lawyer if I ever get in trouble.”

Silas honestly was unsure how to take that. “Thanks…? More importantly-”

“I’m still on board.” Marty nodded confidently, though his face twisted. “I said I was with you and I’ll be with you no matter how this ends up. I still think you’re doing the right thing. That’s what my heart says even if my head isn’t quite there yet.”

Silas blinked. Since when had he ever inspired so much confidence in his abilities? And when was Marty ever so loyal and intense? Was this really the same Martin who, when the biology teacher insisted there was no such thing as a stupid question, raised his hand to ask, “Do trees fart?”

“Very well then.” He returned his attention to the monarchs. “I assume that was the worst. God, I hope that was the worst. But is there anything else?”

“Um!” Alphys raised her hand timidly. “I! I am… er, was, the Royal Scientist. Not very long ago I attempted an experiment that I hoped would lead to a way to break the barrier without any other humans having to fall down. It… didn’t work very well.”

Silas folded his fingers and narrowed his eyes. “How ‘not well’ are we talking here?”

Alphys wringed her hands nervously and spoke as if addressing them, not raising her eyes. “W-well, I was trying to see if a monster soul could be made to survive past-”

“The short version, if you please,” Asgore prompted with a kindly smile.

“Oh! Well then, you see… I asked for the bodies of monsters that had, well, Fallen Down. There was no hope for them, all but dead. I told the families about my experiments, and that I would give the dust back for the funerals once everything was over. And uh, long story short, I brought them back to life but they all fused together into these… creatures. I couldn’t return them to the family members, and it became a huge mess! That’s… how I lost my job.”

Silas leaned back in his chair. “So you experimented on corpses with the full consent of the surviving family members. I fail to see the concern.”

“Silas!” Toriel stared at him with a slack jaw.

“Legally and ethically speaking she’s in the clear,” he replied. “The bodies were donated to science. She told the donating survivors what she was going to do and what she hoped to accomplish. What happened may have been terrible, but it was clearly an unforeseen and unforeseeable consequence of her experiments. She fulfilled her obligations to the best of her ability. Past that… any guilt she may feel or public outrage against it is outside the scope of my profession. The only thing I can suggest is advocating to ban similar experiments. Since no humans were directly impacted by any of this, if you take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen again there should be no problem. Is that it?”

Asgore and Toriel shared a glance. Something passed between them that Silas could not read, an agreement or understanding. “No,” Asgore said, while still looking into Toriel’s eyes. Only then did he turn towards Silas and repeat, “No, there is nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“You asked about what the monsters did wrong. I believe we have enumerated our crimes to you. We are of course keeping other secrets, but they are personal matters.”

Silas gripped his knuckles tightly. Asgore was willing to admit being an accessory to the deaths of six children, but there was another secret he would not divulge? That made his curiosity sit up and take notice. However… “I would dearly love to press you further on this, but trust has to go both ways I suppose. I’ll trust you that whatever you aren’t telling me won’t bite us all later. In the meantime, Martin, I’m going to need one more favor from you tonight.”

“You sure are working me like a dog,” he snickered. “Whatchu need?”

“Take the SUV. Drive the monsters around, all of them. Sightseeing, fast food, I don’t care where. But the inspector from Child Services will arrive soon, and the monsters can’t be here for that if we don’t want them all over the six o’clock news. I’ll text you as soon as they’re gone.”

Toriel perked up. “This is the last thing you need before you become Frisk’s foster parent, yes?”

“It is, though it won’t be official until we get all the paperwork. That won’t be until Tuesday or so, I don’t think. That reminds me, I already printed the paperwork we’ll need to get Frisk registered for school. We’ll tackle that when you return.”

“Oh.” Toriel deflated. “I had… hoped I would be able to teach them.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Silas said without much sympathy. “But for the foreseeable future you’ll all be too busy to take care of Frisk’s schooling, and they’ll develop strange habits if they aren’t around other kids their age. We can revisit the matter once things have calmed down.” The thought also occurred to him that he did not want Frisk to become too close or too dependent on the monsters. Frisk’s journey could not have been all sunshine and rainbows, not when they had the last soul needed for their freedom. There was more to Frisk’s relationship to the monsters than mere friendship, there was an ugliness somewhere beneath the surface he was suddenly desperate to plumb. He needed to know more. Depending on how things went or what he found he might have to break his promise to Toriel. The idea did not give him much pause. After all, sometimes you had to be a bad person to do the right thing.

* * *

Frisk held the towel wrapped around their chest with one hand as they considered the shirts lying on their new bed. They put a finger to their lips and “hmmmmm”ed. Each of the shirts was horizontally striped, ranging in colors from orange and blue to black and red and several others. They all looked pretty good and they were having trouble deciding. “What do you think, Chara?”

Chara was in the far corner of the room, face stuffed into the angle like they were in time out. They had “taken a nap” while Frisk was in the bath, disappearing to keep themself from sharing Frisk’s sensations. They said at the time they had no interest in peeking on Frisk, but they both knew the real reason. As soon as Frisk was done and in their room again to get dressed they called for Chara to wake them up. Chara did not appreciate being called in such a scenario; as soon as they noticed Frisk’s state of undress they turned bright red and averted their eyes, and had remained that way for the past several minutes. “I don’t care, I have no opinion! Just wear whatever fits. But if any of them are green and gold, don’t wear that one!”

“Yeah, wasn’t gonna.” There was a shirt like that, and Frisk shoved it back into the shopping bag as soon as they laid eyes on it. Wearing a shirt with the same color scheme as their previous children would give Asgore and Toriel heart attacks. Trying on one of the other options, the black shirt with red stripes was so big they were practically swimming in it. Next they tried the blue long-sleeved shirt with the two thin yellow stripes across the chest like an equals sign, and this one was a little better. Good enough for now. Frisk looked between the panties and the briefs for a moment, shrugged, and picked one to put on. The khaki shorts fit well, but the small pockets would have been a dealbreaker if Frisk did not have their phone to store all their food and other useful stuff. All they needed now was the new ankle socks and… “Done! How do I look?”

Chara removed their face from the corner and looked Frisk up and down, sighing in relief. “Not bad,” they said. “The sleeves are a little long…”

Frisk shook their head and pulled the sleeves down over their fingers. “Look! Mittens!”

Chara covered their mouth to stifle a laugh. “I stand corrected. They seem to be the perfect size!”

Just then a knock sounded. “Frisk? Are you decent?” Toriel called. Frisk made an affirmative “mmm” and she opened the door. “I wanted to make sure you were all set. You see, I and the rest of the monsters must leave again. It will only be for a short time, no more than a few hours. Someone from your government will be here to make sure this place is alright for you to stay, and Silas does not want us here to upset the inspector. While they are here Martin will show us around the city some more. Call me silly, I know you are strong enough to have gone through all of the underground alone, I just need a little assurance you’ll be alright.”

“I unnerstand,” Frisk said with a nod. “I’ll wait with Mr. Pembrooke.” So they would have Silas all to themself? Then again it was not as if they would be completely alone. Their vision shifted over to Chara, whose smile turned subtly mocking just as Frisk’s chest got warm and fluffy thinking of Mr. Pembrooke.

Toriel smiled. “Such a brave child. If you’re done getting dressed, come downstairs so we can have a proper goodbye.” She kept the door open a tiny crack for a brief moment so she could smile at them once more through the tiny sliver before closing it softly.

Chara opened their mouth to say something and Frisk held up a finger. “Don’t,” they warned.

The ghost rolled their eyes. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” There was a pause as they both considered their next move, then Chara asked, “So… about the anime you watched with Alphys.”

Frisk nodded. “You were right. It’s easy to tell Kojima is the bad guy.”

“Right?!” Chara beamed, their face lighting up like they had never seen them. “I would say it’s supposed to be obvious, but they treat the eventual reveal like it’s some huge revelation so it comes off as insulting to the audience.” Frisk nodded as they went to follow Toriel downstairs.

Frisk bade farewell to the monsters, unable to keep the tears completely out of their eyes even though they knew it would only be for a very short time. “Don’t worry little guy,” Marty said. “I’ll make sure to keep ‘em safe. We’ll be back before you know it.” Asgore nodded his assent, though Alphys looked as nervous as ever.

“Indeed!” Papyrus said. “This is a vital fact-finding trip! By watching surface humans in their natural habitat we can learn much more about them than we can through books or television!”

“That is very true, Papyrus,” Toriel said. She knelt down to give Frisk one last hug, which they dove into with abandon. “We will return as soon as we are able. I will see you again soon.” She pressed her muzzle against Frisk’s neck, the soft fur tickling a little bit before she walked out with everyone else.

And then they were alone with Silas Pembrooke.

Their stomach twisted into a knot. Why were they so nervous? Some part of them wanted this, right? But now that they were here they were unsure what to do next. And Chara snickering next to them was not doing anything positive for their nerves.

Silas spoke first: “With everything the way it’s been we haven’t had much of a chance to speak. I understand you might not fully trust me, but I assure you I only want what is best for you.”

Frisk followed behind him as he walked into the kitchen. “Um,” they started, not sure how they were going to phrase what they wanted to say. “Thank you, Mr. Pembrooke. For… you know, eveything. Helping the monsters, taking them in, being my new foster dad. It means a lot that I still get to live with them.”

Silas’ expression darkened. “Yes, about that. Can we talk for a moment?” Despite not even being a parent yet he had already mastered the tone of voice adults used when the question they were asking wasn’t actually a question. Silas knelt down on one knee, placing himself just below Frisk’s eye level. “I need to ask you something very important. I understand we only just met, but this is something I have to know for your own safety. Tell me the truth: did the monsters ever hurt you?”

Frisk’s moment of panic was an ice cube on their neck. They should have expected something like this. The monsters _had_ attacked them, even if they were sorry. But if they admitted that Silas might get the wrong idea. How much did he know? Probably enough, if he was asking. Could they explain things to him in a way he would understand? “It’s… it’s not like what you’re thinking. They were scared.” _I was scared too._ They smothered the thought; it didn’t matter that they had been scared, they were better now, the monsters were better, everything was fine. “And… and they really wanted to leave! They’re not mean, they won’t do it again!”

Silas inhaled deeply, the curl at the corner of his mouth a glimpse into his complicated and contradictory feelings. He stood and reached over and picked up Frisk’s blue and lilac shirt, the one that had seen them through the whole underground, which had been lying on the table. He made a rumbling sound in his throat as he rubbed his thumb over the singe marks on the sleeves. Holes burnt by Toriel’s fire magic.

Chara inhaled sharply and swallowed. “He suspects,” they warned. “He saw Toriel’s fire magic just last night. There’s no way he won’t think of it.”

“Perhaps I should ask a more specific question.” Silas continued staring at the holes. “Did _Toriel_ ever hurt you?”

Frisk was too old and had too many problems to be adopted by a human family. This was their last chance, they knew after this no one would ever want to take them again. Frisk wanted to trust Silas, but he wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t even trying to understand. If they told him the truth he would definitely get the wrong idea. He would make sure Toriel never saw them again and they would lose their chance at a family. So they flattened their features, looked him dead in the eye, and told him, “No.”

Silas squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, crumpling up the shirt into a ball. “… Alright. I’ll leave it at that for now.” Silas threw the shirt into the laundry room and adjusted his coat. “I’m not angry, and I won’t be mad if you change your answer later. Just… give it some thought.” At that moment the doorbell rang. Silas sighed, “That’s probably the inspector. I wish you’d chosen a shirt that fits better but there’s nothing for it now. I can take you clothes shopping tomorrow.” Frisk could not suppress a sigh; was there ever a kid anywhere that liked clothes shopping? “Remember to greet the inspector kindly and be on your best behavior, if she finds something out of place on this visit I really don’t know what will happen.” They nodded but he was not even looking at them, instead moving to open the door.

Standing on the other side was a woman in a blouse with a pencil skirt and mousy-brown hair done up in a ponytail. She held a clipboard in the crook of her arm, pressed against her chest in a defensive posture. Something about her was vaguely familiar, but Frisk was sure they had not seen her more than a handful of times. As soon as the door opened her gaze went to Silas and then quickly around, eyes lighting up on seeing the child. “Frisk!” the woman shouted. She rushed in and crouched to be at Frisk’s eye level. It was taking visible effort for the woman to restrain herself from hugging Frisk. “Thank God you’re okay! Don’t run away like that again! I was so worried about you! Was there something wrong with the Hancocks? Did they hurt you?”

The Hancocks? Oh, the foster family they were staying with before… everything. It felt like a lifetime ago. Frisk shook their head. “N-no, Mr. and Mrs. Hancock were nice. I… I messed up and they said…”

“I know what they said,” the woman growled. “Don’t worry about them, what they said is _not_ true. You are a good child and you deserve to grow up happy and healthy. You hear me? We’re not going to give up on you so-”

Silas coughed to remind the woman of both his presence and her admirable if unprofessional behavior. “You… know Frisk personally?”

“In a sense,” the woman said, straightening up. “I’m Ms. Ashland, the social worker in charge of Frisk’s case. You must be Silas Pembrooke?” She sized up the man. “I don’t know what you did to end up in such an unorthodox situation, but even if I’m under orders from on high to rubber stamp this I will be diligent. I’m personally doing this inspection, _on a Saturday_ , because I have to see for myself that Frisk is ending up in a good home. I’ll start with the living space. Can you show me around?” Silas’ eyes narrowed in that ‘you just told me a lot more than you intended to’ way that he loved doing and waved her inside, walking her toward the kitchen.

Now that Frisk thought about it, this lady had said a long time ago they would be in charge of finding Frisk a good foster home and making sure they were adjusting well. They had hardly seen her at all since that time; she came to check on them about a week after they were placed in a new home and maybe once or twice while they were between homes, and each time she seemed to think of them as a nuisance. She would ask how they felt in a way that made it clear she did not care overmuch about the answer, complain how hard it was getting to find new foster parents for them (“Most of these people don’t know what non-binary even _means_!” they remembered her saying), and skipped out on the required meetings with their various foster parents more than a few times. So what was with that greeting at the door? When had she started caring so much? Frisk wiped a scowl off their face before turning to follow the grown-ups.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia! The third human’s soul was originally blue when they fell down, not green. However, young children are very impressionable and Marijane stayed with Toriel for six years. This allowed her to adopt enough of the Boss Monster’s worldview to push her Kindness above her Integrity, changing her soul color accordingly. This is not at all a bad thing or a sad thing. Soul colors are descriptive and not prescriptive; it is most certainly not a metaphysical force telling you what you “should” or “ought” to be. For the record, Marijane is not the only one of the children whose Soul Color changed due to their experiences; before living with their grandparents Chara had a Purple soul, but their experiences on the surface wore down their ability to cope enough that Love became their dominant trait.  
> In Toriel’s boss fight she presents Frisk with a choice: either get burned to death by balls of fire (however small the risk is that she’ll kill them the risk is still there and she is very much aware of it), or kill the woman who was ready to accept the title and duty of their mother after knowing them for all of ten minutes. Neither choice is great for the physical or mental health of an eight year old. I don’t believe Toriel’s behavior qualifies as “abuse” necessarily, but she never apologizes, is never forced to confront it, and no other character ever mentions it. Very rarely if ever do fans of the game even talk about how messed up her actions are. By contrast, Asgore also attacked Frisk but he didn’t appoint himself in a nurturing or protective role before turning on them or get sanctimonious about the whole ordeal unlike some goatmoms I could name. Sorry Toriel fans, I still think she’s a good person but sweeping her sins under the rug won’t do anyone any favors.


	8. Friends Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long it’s been since my last update. I really want to have a better rate than one chapter in two months, but for some reason this chapter gave me an inordinate amount of trouble.

_The fourth child, the purple soul… you told me he did not stop even for food or a nap, but barged straight through your house and to the exit without even introducing himself. Seeking Mr. Eaton’s name would have been impossible if not for the documentary the humans made. Oh right! First, his name was Tyrone Eaton, though according to interviews with his social workers he preferred to be called “Ty”. He and his younger brother and sister were taken away from their parents because… well, it says their parents were neglectful and couldn’t take care of them, but that begs the question of what the neighbors were doing. Shouldn’t the rest of the community have stepped up to help if one set of parents was too overworked or tired to raise the kids? I mean that’s common sense! Anyway, Ty was really insistent that he at least be kept together with his siblings. But finding foster homes that could take three kids at once… it was actually pretty difficult, and though the state insisted it was temporary the children lost touch with each other. His workers were trying to get him enrolled in a school for gifted youth, but… the documentary said ‘of course a black kid from a bad home would be unwelcome’, but that doesn’t explain anything? I feel like I’m missing some context, or subtext, or maybe both. Just as the hopes of a good school fell through Ty heard his younger brother had been in a car accident and would likely die that night. Ty raced out the door; the manager of the group home thought to go to the hospital, but nobody ever saw him again. After all that I feel like I have few answers and even more questions than I had before…_

* * *

“Well, here we are again. The surface.”

It was nearly sundown. Susan wrapped her arms around herself, the mountain chill combining with the coldness in her gut to freeze her inside and out. She and Undyne stood in the mouth of the cave, looking out over the countryside. In the distance the buildings of downtown Weymouth beckoned to her, but now it was the curl of a skeletal finger and not the promise of a warm embrace.

Undyne spoke up again, “You don’t have to drive me back, if you don’t wanna. There’s plenty to do here to keep me busy until someone else can come get me.”

Susan shook her head. “No, it’s… it’s okay. I know you’re not going to hurt me. And it wouldn’t be right to make you go back down there when you’ve been looking forward to the surface for so long.” Honestly, a part of her did not want to return with Undyne. Intellectually she knew she had nothing to fear from the fish-woman. But the voice in her head pounded a refrain, ‘This woman tried to kill a child, this woman tried to _kill_ a _child_ …’

“hey undyne, i found the human.”

Susan recoiled from the new voice, putting a hand to her chest to catch her breath. A skeleton in a winter coat looked up at her from Undyne’s side, a giant grin on his face. Like Papyrus he did not actually look much like a skeleton at all but in a completely different way from Papyrus. Where had he come from? She had not heard him walk up at all!

Undyne crossed her arms and growled, “Sans, make some noise when you walk or something! We’ve had a long day and-”

“you're welcome, don't mention it.” He winked to let them both know he was not entirely serious. It was also a reminder that no matter what they may look like Papyrus and Sans were not made of bone.

Undyne rolled her eyes and said, “If you came all this way you might as well say hi. This is Susan. She’s a human who… well, she just found out about the other humans. Try and go easy on her.” Susan felt a nail in her heart get hammered in further. All the monsters knew. It was not intended to be a secret at all.

The skeleton nodded and waved. “heya. i’m sans, sans the skeleton. you met my brother papyrus yet?”

“He’s your brother?” She looked down at him, a motion she was not used to. It was rare for Susan to find someone shorter than she was. He was wearing a winter parka that he filled out considerably (how?!) and bike shorts with pink fuzzy slippers. His skull appeared to be fused into one solid piece, his lips moving almost imperceptively as he spoke. She conjured up a mental image of the tall skeleton in strange clothing. “There’s… not a lot of family resemblance, is there?”

“rude.” Sans held out his hand for a shake. “but if you’re cool with him then you’re cool with me. let’s celebrate becoming new friends together.”

Well, what the hey, Susan thought. He could not possibly be a threat. Compared to the rest of the monsters Sans was downright disarming. She reached out for his hand without consciously meaning to, as though she were possessed. Undyne tried to intervene, “Sans, don’t you-”

The warning came too late. As soon as Susan clasped his hand a farting sound echoed down the entire mountainside. Undyne hid her face behind her hand while the grin on Sans’ face got impossibly wide. Susan’s mind became hazy and she could not form coherent thoughts; her brain had finally thrown up its hands, declared it would _not_ work under these conditions, and was going to its trailer. “whatzamatter?” Sans asked. “you look like you’ve never seen the whoopie cushion in the hand trick before.”

“Dammit, Sans!” Undyne loomed over him. “Do you have to do that to everyone?”

“of course. it’s always funny.” Susan tried to laugh, she really did, but all that came out was a dry and unenthusiastic “heh”.

Undyne’s visible eye blazed for a moment before she realized how pointless this argument would be. “Just… shut up and follow us. She can take us to where everyone’s staying.”

The skeleton rubbed his chin for a moment. Susan imagined the sound of bone scraping against bone would be grating and high-pitched, but the sound Sans made was more like two marbles rubbing together. Now that she thought about it his phalanges had felt unnaturally smooth in her hand. “tempting, but nah. given the choice i’d rather take it easy down there than up here, you can come pick me up when you’re all set.”

“If you’re staying behind to try and get out of work you’re out of luck. Call the Snowdin K-9 unit. Tell them they need to investigate the king’s cellar, pronto.”

“you really think they’ll come? the guard’s disbanded.”

The former Captain did not budge. “Make them come. It’s that important. The bodies are missing and we have to find the culprit as soon as we can.”

Sans showed no reaction, as if he expected this. “the bodies? you mean the ones the previous humans left behind? i think the king wanted to bring the remains back to the humans. but now they’re gone… huh. you think someone stole 'em?”

“Well they didn’t walk out of the cave on their own!”

“fair point, fair point.” His smile eased for the first time since Susan saw him. “no rest for the weary, huh? alright, i’ll get their noses on it and see what we can find out.” He nodded towards Susan once before telling her, “take care of paps for me, yeah? he’s a cool guy and he takes his job seriously.” Oh god, Papyrus. Did he have anything to do with this? Did he know? She found it hard to imagine someone like him being complicit… but she had thought that about all of them just a few hours ago. As if he could read her life story written in worry lines across her face Sans finished, “whatever you’re thinking of he had nothing to do with. he’s the best of us. he tried to capture the kid, sure, but it was all in good fun. they even went on a date afterward.”

She blinked. “A… a date? When they’re so young?”

“don’t worry, paps let ‘em down easy. anyway, i shouldn’t keep the boss waiting. maybe in a couple days i’ll come up and join you all for real. nice meetin’ ya, susan.” He waved over his shoulder as he shuffled back into the Underground, his slippers making schuff-schuff noises against the rocky path.

“So,” Undyne coughed. “Uh, I was gonna ask to race you on the way back, but now that seems kinda-”

“Yeah,” Susan agreed, clutching her elbows. “Yeah, I get you. Let’s just… go back.”

That was the last word either of them said to each other on the way back down the mountain, or on the whole car ride back to Silas’.

* * *

“That… seems to be everything,” Ms. Ashland said, frowning at the checklist. She tapped her pen against the clipboard, apparently hoping to find some other item she could use to deny Silas custody. She sighed and marked her signature at the bottom of her clipboard. “I’ll submit this up the ladder. Ordinarily it would take a few weeks to get your foster care license, but with whatever strings you pulled behind the scenes I wouldn’t be surprised if they make the post office work on a Sunday just to get it to you tomorrow.”

He had to be careful. From the moment this woman entered his home he had felt like he was stepping into the batter’s box with two strikes already against him. Asking the wrong question or the right one in the wrong way could upend the entire process. “I am not accusing you of bias, you understand. But I can’t help but feel attacked. Is there something you find objectionable about my home or my person?”

“I object to this process,” she said icily. “Nothing about this is normal. You should have to attend the Core Training and get your home inspection done before the child is placed, not after. What should take weeks is being done in hours. You’re getting the government to work on a Saturday! I’ve never seen anything like this and I hope you don’t mind me saying it makes me suspicious.” She sighed, her shoulders lowering to below her ears. “And honestly, it seems too good to be true. We’ve had trouble finding places for Frisk, and them running away from their last foster parents might have ended any hopes of an adoption. Instead here comes a man we’ve never heard of who’s willing to bend heaven and earth to keep them safe. You know what they say about ‘too good to be true’.”

Fascinating. “I had not considered that. I am glad you take your job so seriously.”

She glanced down at Frisk for a brief moment before looking straight into Silas’ eyes. Her face hardened with resolution and her eyes blazed. “I’m doing the best I can to look after Frisk with my limited powers. Of course I want them to find a home, but more important than that I want a good home. I certainly don’t want to go through all this craziness only to see you abandon them in a month.”

Frisk’s hands clenched into fists; Silas lacked the context to understand exactly what she said that upset them or why. Instead he returned his attention to Ms. Ashland. “That won’t be happening. I intend to foster Frisk until a permanent family is found to care for them.”

“Normally we like to rotate children around several foster families to keep them from getting too attached to what is intended to be a temporary condition. In the circumstances…” She let slip the barest hint of a smile and concluded, “We’ll see what happens. We’ll meet again in three weeks to see how they’re adjusting. Here’s my card, contact me if anything comes up. And Frisk?” She looked over at the child. “Don’t give up on us, okay? I promise I’ll do better from now on.” Frisk did not respond. They sat on one of the dining room chairs, head down and hands wringing themselves in their lap. They kept their legs together as they kicked back and forth, rocking slightly in the chair. She spoke to Silas again, “When they’re ready I would like to know where they’ve been the last few days. I think we all would.” Ah, but would you be ready for that story? “But for now have a good evening Mr. Pembrooke.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries as Silas guided her out. Surreptitiously he sent a text to Marty to bring back the other monsters. He did not like keeping Toriel and Asgore together for extended periods of time. So far it had not been a problem but that was no reason to push his luck. He shoved Ms. Ashland out the door and wiped his brow. “That went as well as could be expected,” he said. “I’ve already called your friends back, they should be here in a few minutes.”

Frisk could not even bring themself to look at him. They kept their head down, staring at their knees or maybe a point on the floor. “O-oh,” they said, rubbing the knuckles of one hand with the other. “Okay.”

He continued, “You should probably get to bed early tonight. You have been through quite an ordeal and you’ve missed a few days of school. We’re in a different district than your previous school so it’ll mean a transfer. Well, it’s still early in the year so there’s plenty of time to catch up. I’m sure you’ll make plenty of new friends.” He left a bit of silence open for Frisk to voice their opinion, but they only nodded with a tiny hum. They lifted their head slightly, but noticed Silas staring at them and ducked back down as color entered their cheeks. He was starting to think Frisk didn’t like him. Maybe he should not have come on so strong. The kid probably thought he was trying to take them away from Toriel. Which he had not ruled out doing, but he needed more information before doing anything so drastic. He needed to confirm she was dangerous before he moved. But if Frisk said nothing was wrong, what else could he do?

He heard the garage door open. That was fast. Could Marty have been waiting just around the block waiting for the social worker to leave? He received his answer as the door flung open to reveal two women, a blue-scaled fish and a tiny Asian human. The corners of their mouths were turned down and their faces averted from each others. Undyne stepped past Silas to offer Frisk a “Hey kid, ya miss me?” Susan’s lower lip trembled and the tension in her neck visibly decreased when Undyne left her side.

“Susan, you’re back! The underground must not be as big as it sounded if you already explored…” He let himself trail off as he caught her morose expression, the one Undyne shared. Oh. _Oh._ “… You found out. About the children.”

Susan nodded, slowly at first but ramping up in speed. She half-dived, half-fell into Silas and wrapped her arms around his ribs, squeezing uncomfortably. She choked on her sobs and she pushed her face into his shoulder to wipe her eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, instead putting one arm around her shoulder and patting her back. There there. There there. He could not tell how long they were like that. At some point Undyne must have taken Frisk upstairs to give them some privacy because neither of them were there the next time he checked with his peripheral vision. He let Susan cry and shudder and all the things she had been holding in for who knew how long. Poor Susan. He had warned her, too, but in the end he could not blame her.

“What are we gonna do?” she whined into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan. It’ll all work out. I won’t let something like this stop the monsters from living here peacefully.”

She stiffened in his arms and stepped back, pushing air through pursed lips in a wheeze like a leaky balloon. “You… I wasn’t talking about the monsters. Don’t you care about the kids?”

He should have watched his mouth. Careless.“Of course I care. But there’s nothing I or anyone can do for the six children who died. I can try and contact their families after the monsters are introduced. Doing anything before then could risk exposure before we’re ready.” _We_ , he repeated internally. Well, why not? He was already in this deep, he had already done this much, why not count himself among them? “Besides, I already promised I would help the monsters so they’re going to be my priority.”

Susan crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. “Bullshit. We both know how you feel about promises.”

 _This_ , he did not need right now. “Susan, go home. Get some sleep.”

“Are you…” She bit her lower lip and drew in a shaky breath, brow furrowed. “Do you seriously think I just need a nap and everything will be fine?”

“I don’t care whether it will fix anything. I’m not going to get yelled at in my own home and I’m not letting you say something you’ll regret later.” And just in time light splayed across the wall from headlights through the window as a large truck turned onto his driveway; Marty had returned.

She pointed a finger at him and shouted, “If you think you’re running away from me-!”

“Call it whatever you like, I am not rehashing an argument from eight years ago.” He swung open the door and called out into the garage, “Marty, don’t turn off the truck!” He left the door open and moved aside to let the monsters through. “Have him drive you home. You don’t have to come back if you decide you don’t want to.” Asgore came in first, followed by Alphys, Papyrus, then finally Toriel, each one coming into the house quickly but slowing down to rubberneck. They all carefully crept past the two humans attempting to stare each other down, unwilling to interfere but unable to look away.

Susan shook her head, her jaw set. “And that’s… it. After everything, that’s all it takes for you to cut me loose.”

“I’m not cutting anyone loose, we’ll talk again when we’ve both calmed down.” He forced himself to take a breath. “It was good seeing you again, Shuchun. Thank you for this weekend. I had my doubts about a camping trip but it certainly was… something.”

All the anger left her face. Her expression fell like a balloon deflating. She looked empty and her words came out as hollow wheezes. “I… huh. You’re, um… yeah. I-I guess I’ll see you. Later, Sai.” She stepped past him and into the garage, slamming the door behind her. Within a moment the sound of the engine got quieter and quieter as it backed down the driveway and back into the dusk.

The whole time the monsters shuffled nervously and looked absolutely everywhere but at the door or Silas, intuiting that somehow they were the cause of what they had witnessed. Only after the sound of the engine faded entirely was Papyrus brave enough to venture, “Er, Silas? Is there something the matter between you and your friend Susan?”

“Nothing I’m willing to discuss,” he snapped. Papyrus recoiled and he immediately cursed himself. It was getting to him, everything was, and he could never let a client see him sweat. He was supposed to be the defendant’s support, their sole lifeline. If he got overwhelmed what were they supposed to do? “Thank you for your concern, but right now there are more pressing matters than my personal life. I’d like to continue our talk from this morning in light of-” His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket with a exasperated snarl and an eyeroll. Now what? He held up one finger when he saw the phone number: his father’s office number. After the favor he did getting that audience with the governor on such short notice he could not afford to blow him off. “Pembrooke speaking,” Silas accepted the incoming call, stepping into the kitchen and lowering his voice for some semblance of privacy.

A female voice on the other end of the line spoke in a professional staccato, over-enunciating every syllable. “Mr. Pembrooke, I’m calling on behalf of Reginald Pembrooke, to confirm your appointment with him at his home at five-thirty tomorrow evening. Will you need directions?”

Was that her idea of a joke? If so it was delivered bone dry. “No, I know the way to my own father’s house, thank you for confirming.”

“Oh, and also I need to deliver a request from him. It says… hm. I have a handwritten note that he wants you to ‘bring the big one with the crown’. It says you’ll know what it means.” There was a hint of a question in her tone, asking without words to be let in on the big secret.

Big one with the crown… the photo he sent. Asgore? His father wanted to meet Asgore? What was this about? “I don’t suppose this is negotiable.”

“Nothing ever is with Reginald Pembrooke.”

A wince distorted his face. He was afraid of that. “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.” He hung up and returned to a much more somber group than he left. Undyne had rejoined the group, though there were not a lot of smiles to go around at what should have been a happy reunion. She stood in a soldierly position, back straight and shoulders hiked. Asgore looked back at her with an ashen expression, while Toriel’s teeth were bared in constrained fury. “What did I miss?” Silas asked.

Asgore spoke in a tone a pallbearer might use, “The children are missing.” He licked his nose; it seemed a lot less funny now than it did around the campfire. “The bodies of the six children who fell between Chara and Frisk are gone.”

Silas couldn’t help it. He slapped himself in the forehead and sighed deeply. “That’s… great. Just great. Do you have any suspects?”

Undyne winced. “Not yet. I’ve got people looking into it: the K-9 unit will be able to track anyone who’s visited the room for months, should be a short list.”

“You lost them,” Toriel shook her head in disgust. “The one thing you could have done to honor their memory and you… how did that even happen?”

Undyne tried to soften the blow, “The only security measure in place was obscurity. There were only a few people who knew where the coffins were and nobody had much reason to go down there and look. Even if someone found them by accident, why mess with ‘em? Oh, uh, babe? Can you figure out a way for us to talk to the people back underground from here? My cellphone ain’t working but I don’t want to have to go all the way back for status updates.”

Alphys pulled out her own phone and pressed a few buttons. She tapped the screen with a claw rhythmically, “Hmmm… I see, the surface cellular network must use a different architecture than we use underground. I expected that but it’s still an issue if we can’t piggyback off their network. Probably can’t rewrite the whole code in the next few days. I can set up a communication node near the cave entrance as a stopgap measure while we standardize-” She realized everyone was staring at her and she began vibrating. “Uh-uh-uh-uh, sorry I was… thinking out loud! Heh heh… heh…”

“Good idea, even without this we’ll want to keep in touch with whoever you have temporarily running things down there.” He yawned into his hand. His eyelids drooped dangerously and it was taking physical effort to keep his jaw closed. “But we can… handle that tomorrow. I think… we should turn in early and get some rest. This has been a very eventful day for all of us. There should be enough space for everyone if we don’t mind getting cozy. The recliner, the couch… spots on the floor if need be. Can someone help me get the spare sheets and blankets out? Oh, and Frisk will need to be put to bed as well…”

* * *

Weymouth was not large enough to be active 24 hours a day but still large enough to have a nightlife on the weekends. The workers at the flower fields were eager to blow off steam and get roaring drunk in the lousiest dives they could find, while the nightclubs and mid-scale bars welcomed the returning college students with open arms. In September especially the barhoppers of various social classes cut a line through the city where the foot traffic was so thick cars could hardly move through it without hitting someone. This was why even though Susan’s mother lived only ten minutes from Silas’ condo as the crow flew, it would take Marty nearly half an hour to get her home. Susan knew all that. Still she cursed the long, circuitous path he was taking, curving around the danger zone instead of trying to plow through it. She wanted to be home already. She lounged in her seat, oversized for her petite body and overcushioned so instead of being comfortable she felt like there was no support.

Marty waited until he was at a stoplight before asking, “Do you hate them? The monsters?”

“What? No! I-I don’t…” She sighed and slammed her head against the seat just under the headrest. “I don’t _want_ to. It’s… it wasn’t supposed to be like this. They’re friendly and nice and so so sweet. And it’s not fair what happened to them. They didn’t deserve to be locked underground. But then they tell me six kids died down there and they either did nothing or actively helped kill them and… how am I supposed to feel about that? Wasn’t what happened to those kids unfair, too? Does thinking the monsters are cool mean ignoring the lives of those kids and saying their deaths don’t matter? But then I think, should the monsters have stayed underground, then? There’s thousands of monsters, most of them probably had nothing to do with the kids dying. Is it right to condemn all of them because of something only a couple of them did?” She growled and pulled on a handful of her hair. “I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense.”

Marty nodded, tapping against the steering wheel. “No, I hear ya. Have to admit I’m not too crazy about it all myself. But I figure it will all work out. My feelings, the kids, the monsters, all of it. So why worry?”

“And it’s just that simple for you.”

“Guess so.”

“C’mon, don’t hold out on me. What are you really thinking?”

Marty said nothing for a long while, his attention focused on the empty road. Just when it seemed he would ignore the question entirely he said, “The summer of our junior year was a rough time for me. I didn’t care about anything, I was so caught up in my own problems I didn’t realize what path I was on. I don’t blame you for not noticing, I had a lot of practice hiding by that point. I almost did something… really, really stupid. Alicia stopped me, though she probably didn’t realize what she did. Silas probably doesn’t remember it at all. But it… really stuck with me. I thought, ‘this is someone who really has their shit together’. I owe her my life. So I decided, if she’s ever in trouble or if she ever needs help, I’ll do whatever I can. Even if I don’t know what he’s going through or have my doubts, I’ll never abandon him. And I still feel that way.”

“I hate to ruin your introspection, but you changed his pronouns like, three times.”

“Oh come on!” he protested, his smile returning albeit weakly. “If I’m talking about him when he was going by ‘Alicia’, shouldn’t I call him… her… then, now?” He scratched at his head one-handed as his train of thought derailed. “Aaaagh, this is so confusing!” Marty drove on in silence for just long enough to indicate a change of topics before asking, “By the way, where’d Chad go? He totally ghosted on us, did he mail you about it or anything?”

“Nope.” Susan rested her cheek against the window, the outside chill cooling off her face. Her breath fogged up the window. “I wonder what he’s up to now.”

“If he has any sense at all he’s asleep. Which means he’s probably pacing around his studio working himself into a lather over something or another. I swear, Silas has got one mean stick up his ass but Chad’s the one who’s going to give himself a heart attack one of these days.”

—————————

Chad laid on a mattress dumped on the ground, no boxspring and no frame. The rest of his studio was similarly spartan; other than the bed and a television there was no other furniture. He had not even bought any rugs to cover the hardwood floors. His clean clothes were neatly folded and stacked in a laundry basket while dirty clothes piled up in the far corner. A laptop rested on his abs with several tabs open of major local, national, and international news sites. So far there was no hint of what had happened near Mt. Ebott the previous night. The world had changed and nobody else knew it. His eyes traced the series of circles and curves in the plaster as if following the loops would lead him to someplace new. It was an apt metaphor for his brain; start in the same place, follow the same arguments, reach the same conclusion.

The starting location: the monsters. They came with open hands and smiling faces but that was no guarantee of anything. If negotiations went poorly or they sensed weakness they could pounce. It was said diplomacy was the fine art of saying “nice doggy” until you could find a rock. It was possible the monsters were biding their time until they could discover the strengths and weaknesses of humanity. If Silas was the one keeping the rabid dog at bay he had to do his part and start looking for rocks. Not that he was hoping for violence but… just in case.

First consideration, the numbers involved. It was unknown how densely populated the underground was, but unless the monsters were packed in like Kowloon it was likely the humans of Weymouth outnumbered them. That numerical advantage disappeared quickly once you realized every monster possessed magic and was therefore a threat. By contrast probably only two thirds of humans were at an age and level of physical fitness capable of fighting, less than half of them owned weapons, and less than half of _them_ were trained in their use. The rest of the county was more sparsely populated but the incidence of gun ownership was higher. So there were maybe half again as many potential militia members as in Weymouth proper.

Next, troop quality. From Toriel’s description of magic fields it could be used at pistol range at the most. Rifles would be the order of the day. With both range and home-field advantage the fighting could be contained to Weymouth and its environs. Governor Patrick might call for the National Guard but the locals and the militia could probably push them back to Mt. Ebbot before they arrived. Or maybe they couldn’t, but if it got to the point where the monsters were able to fight off local police and militias and establish outposts you stopped thinking about calling the National Guard and started considering summoning the army. The monsters might, _might_ , put up a fight against civilians armed with hunting rifles and shotguns, but against trained soldiers, tanks, drones, and who knew what else? No way. No matter what kind of magic they had a sniper bullet would collapse their skulls all the same. Chad should be able to relax, because even in the absolute worst-case scenario monsters were doomed and humanity would be saved.

But the monsters could probably take out at least a few humans before being defeated. If it came down to a conflict Silas and Marty were doomed. Marty would not have the presence of mind to even consider the possibility of an attack and Silas would willfully blind himself to it until it was too late. Susan… she would die too. Even while standing in the middle of a pride of lions as they ate the faces of tourists she would never imagine she herself would get mauled. That kind of naivete was one of her more charming qualities, but it also made her a liability. So, those three probably could not be saved. Their position was too dangerous. Best to write them off now. That would be best, but he could not in his heart abandon them to their fate. Even Silas, the self-important fop, did not deserve to die. The only way to save them would be to get them to safety now, before the monsters became dangerous. But Silas was likely to have a hundred arguments on giving peace a chance. He was a lawyer, how was Chad supposed to compete with that? He had to find some argument, though. Maybe if he tried to imagine what a war between humans and monsters might look like he could explain the danger to them. And that was his conclusion ending up at his starting point, looping back around itself like a snake eating its tail.

It was not as though he wanted a fight. He wanted to believe. In his heart he dearly, desperately wanted everything to work out. He merely had no faith that it would. That was the difference between him and an ideologue like Silas, or a romantic like Susan, or an appeaser like Marty. They assumed nothing would ever go wrong, and so they ran roughshod over him when he tried to voice his very reasonable concerns. It was not as though he was angry, no. They had not realized it yet but they needed him. The work he was doing now was just as important as whatever skulduggery Silas was involved with concerning the governor. He needed to keep plugging away at it, because the time would soon come when his friends would need him. He had to be ready. But to do that he needed them to meet him halfway.

He looked over to the side where his alarm clock flared thirty minutes to midnight in a bright red digital glow. Disgusted, he moved his laptop to the floor and slammed his face into the pillow like he intended to perform violence on it. This day had been long enough, so tomorrow. He would continue tomorrow.

* * *

Chara waited.

Below them Frisk laid out on their bed in their sleep clothes, mouth open and drooling on the pillow. Below that on the lower floor the monsters were continuing their discussions on the press conference they would have to have to introduce themselves. What venue to use, who would speak and in what order, enunciation and word choice to have the desired effects, all things Frisk would call “grown-up stuff” and Chara euphemized as “boring”. The waiting was agonizing, the urge to move or speak or do _something_ reaching a fever pitch, but they willed themselves still. Patience may have been their worst trait, but it was not as though they could not be patient. It meant only that being patient did not come naturally to them. That was how Asgore explained it to them when informed of Chara’s virtue readings. They tried unsuccessfully to forget how Asgore finished that thought: “the way loving does.”

Frisk’s breathing had slowed to the point where Chara was sure they were asleep. They pushed depressing thoughts from their mind, it was time to go to work. They were unable to test this the previous night because others were with them, but now that Frisk had their own room Chara could experiment on something strange that happened after Frisk passed out from exhaustion in the Judgment Hall. They licked their lips then said calmly and clearly, “Rubber baby buggy bumpers.”

Frisk slurred, “Rubber, baby, buggy, bumpers.”

So it had not been a once-off thing. They could control Frisk in their sleep! A thousand and one plans rolled through their head. They could read books! Surf the internet!… Actually that was about it. If anyone ran into them they might wake Frisk up and ruin their fun. Even if Chara was able to successfully act as Frisk, it would be trouble if Frisk didn’t remember the conversation. Putting Frisk in danger by somnambulating out of the house was a very definite no-no. But still! Seeing a world they could never touch was quickly growing tiresome. At least they could continue their education if this panned out. Chara gathered their concentration for the next experiment. “Sesquipedalion.”

Frisk repeated gamely, “Siskapurrion.”

So they could not make Frisk say anything they could not normally pronounce. Which made sense, it was not as if they were possessing Frisk. It was more like pushing buttons. No matter how clever you were with the television remote a VCR was not going to make coffee for you. Okay, next up; was it limited to just their voice, or could they make Frisk’s body move around? They thought a mental command at Frisk, but Frisk remained still. They thought harder: no effect. After a full minute they had to admit it was not working. They were reminded of when they tried to learn magic; it was the only time they had trouble learning something. Toriel and Asgore and Asriel could use magic so easily, but all their lessons never did a thing for them. Even the most rudimentary technique, expanding the magic field, was completely beyond them. Then as now they wondered what muscle they were even supposed to be flexing. Actually, hm. When making Frisk speak Chara could only make them repeat what they said. Maybe the same principle applied to movement? Chara went sideways in the air, trying to match Frisk’s pose exactly. Once they were reasonably close, they clenched and unclenched their fingers and barely kept themself from squealing in delight when Frisk’s fingers moved in time with theirs. Next they tried to move their arm flat against their side; Frisk’s arm flopped in the same vague direction but without any of Chara’s grace or aesthetic. They tried to move the same arm, this time to make it grab the corner of the pillow. Again Frisk’s arm jerked wildly, landing almost six inches from where Chara was aiming. Was the problem Chara’s inexperience? Or were they unable to enact perfect control of a sleepy Frisk? Maybe they could try again when Frisk was more awake. They immediately dismissed the idea; making Frisk talk in their sleep was one thing, body-jacking them was something else entirely. They absolutely could not do that even if it was possible.

Well, it was a neat gimmick but entirely useless. Finding out they were unlikely to get relief from this condition in the near future was totally not worth staying up this late for. Oh well. Chara closed their eyes and allowed themself to fade from existence. The next moment they experienced would be Frisk waking them up in the morning…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comments of this chapter reader FriskHeart has the following advice:  
> "BTW, friendly PSA for people who (like Marty) know trans people and don't know how to refer to them in stories before they came out! Simply put, if it isn't relevant to the story, just use the same name and pronouns they're using. There's no need to deadname or misgender them unnecessarily. If it is relevant, (which it wasn't in this case btw,) just say "Before they came out" or "Before they started transitioning" and carry one with the same name and pronouns that they use now. :)"  
> Thanks FriskHeart!


	9. Human Families

_The fifth child’s name was Skye Harris. He was a local and a little bit of a neighborhood terror (not entirely unlike Frisk, but I’m getting ahead of myself). He would accept any challenge, take on any opponent, and never back down from a dare. That… was the problem. Children on the surface understood Mt. Ebott was dangerous. They said anyone who climbed the mountain never returned. The weird thing was, hikers and outdoorsy folk would climb it all the time and they were fine. In fact, I might be reading between the lines here? But it seems like they never found the caves at all. Neither the one Frisk fell into above the ruins, nor the entrance to the barrier room at New Home. Isn’t that so strange? Anyway! A couple kids dared Skye to go climb the mountain, and of course he took off that night. When he didn’t come back after three days the kids tearfully confessed everything, and that’s how all the local adults came to know of this mountain and its legend. They tried hard to keep the secret from getting out; this was right around the time the town was experiencing huge growth due to the commercialization of golden flowers, and they did not want to risk the city becoming known for disappearing kids rather than its “magical” tea. And they succeeded for almost fifteen more years._

_There is one thing I have to tell you about Skye in the underground: he didn’t have a good reputation. There’s lots of stories about the orange soul child beating up monsters and leaving them nearly dead. He never killed anyone, but depending on who you asked it wasn’t for lack of trying. I’m not accusing you of anything, but what kind of person was he when he lived with you? Anything that might have explained why he was like that?_

* * *

Toriel felt a migraine headache coming on.

Asgore had no idea what kind of surface he would be bringing the monsters to. All his information about the surface was second or third-hand, and his skills as a politician were unimpressive. He had only remained king for a thousand years because no one seriously challenged his rule. She could have stolen the throne from him in the wake of her child’s death, she really could have, but she had no interest in being the ruler of a people who would cheer for the blood of children. And yet that was exactly the position she now found herself in, acting as co-leader in Asgore and Silas’ bid to downplay the crimes of their nation. And the worst part was she was letting it happen because, as usual, she was so focused on immediate problems that she could not think long term. This time, though, she could not help it. She had barely gotten one page into Alphys’ preliminary report and already it sent her reeling. Chara, her first human child, did not exist according to Alphys’ research. No report of a missing child. No mourning. They simply fell into the underground and every trace of them ever living on the surface was wiped out.

Toriel remembered once when they were alone with Chara, not long after they fell. Chara threw a rubber ball at the floor so it would bounce up, hit the wall, and return to them on the rebound. The ball made a sharp twang as it hit the floor and a softer bop when it hit the wall. Chara caught it with a thwip and threw it back down a little harder, causing the ball to travel faster and hit louder. Over and over, over and over. “Are you practicing for something?” she asked. Chara did not reply verbally, just shrugged and continued their game. Twang-bop-thwip, twang-bop-thwip. She tried again, “We’ve posted a Loox family close to where Asriel found you. We’ll be informed if anyone comes looking for you.”

Chara stiffened but continued their play. “No one will come here.”

“Yes, I suppose it is unlikely anyone else will find this place after-”

“ _No._ ” Their rhythm was interrupted as they kept hold of the ball, still not looking at Toriel. “No one will come because they won’t look.” They threw the ball with what was clearly intended to be a petulant slam, but the ball rebounded off the floor and wall and came rocketing back at their face, knocking into their nose with enough force to knock Chara off their feet. She was there in a flash, ready with a light admonishment and a healing hand. She had not wondered until some time later whether the last throw was really an accident caused by their anger or a move calculated to prevent any follow-up questions on what they had just said.

She had forgotten that incident for a very long time, but reading Alphys’ research brought it back. How could this be? What kind of family would allow them to disappear as though they never existed. The other children, yes, their families deserved some sort of closure. But Chara’s? She had seen how they curled in on themself. She saw them slowly, tentatively crawl out of their shell. From whence did that shell come from? From “parents” Chara could not bring themself to call anything other than Those People! How she hated them, hated them with a fury that would have turned her into a withered hag in seconds if she were not a Boss Monster and immune to aging from negative emotions as the rest of monsterkind did. The other families needed to know what had happened to their children. Those People needed to understand what they had done to their child.

“All set!” Asgore held out his arms to display his attire, ceremonial armor polished and cape meticulously cleaned. “How do I look?”

Before Toriel realized what she was doing she had settled into the old routine, straightening tiny wrinkles in the cape and inspecting for smudges on the plate mail. There was a time when she would have been wearing her own set of ceremonial armor, and the two of them would nit and peck at each other’s appearances until they were both perfect. But that was a long time ago. She would never wear that armor again. She would never be queen again, not if it meant ruling alongside Asgore. He would not be king for much longer either; he would give it up to become another ordinary citizen of these United States. So she could take Frisk as her own child to replace the one she lost. No, no, she berated herself, Frisk was not a replacement. However tempting and understandable the sin, she must never allow herself to try and see Asriel in Frisk. Or to see Chara in them, for that matter.

“That should about do it,” she said. “Although, you may be overdressed.”

“Silas tells me his dad likes it when people use formal wear for business. Also that he never knew him to invite strangers over for fun.”

As if being summoned by calling his name Silas descended the staircase at that moment, already dressed in a dark green suit and black tie. He looked a bit flushed and uncomfortable, his hand gripping the banister with an iron grip. “His house is not far, but it would be best not to keep my father waiting.” Poor dear, he was dropping his contractions again. “I ask all of you not to leave the house. Tomorrow we will discuss making your debut to the world, but for now you cannot be out in public.”

“We understand,” Toriel said patiently. “You have made yourself quite clear. Although it is cramped in this house, we will trust in your judgment.”

“Good.” Silas nodded, exhaling. “Okay. We will… we’ll, be back by nightfall.”

A moment later they were gone, starting up the strange vehicle and out the garage door. Toriel had missed out on a lot of technological innovation while she was in the Ruins; she could hardly recognize most of Hotland on her way to rescue Frisk. But the surface world was an order of magnitude greater even than that, with vehicles and street lights and television and computers. She noticed with dismay that the other monsters took it all in stride, with only her left wide-eyed and gasping at the marvels on display. Was she really that much of a dinosaur?

She was halfway through cooking a stir-fry for lunch when Undyne came up to her. “Hey, uh, Toriel. Do you need a hand with that?”

“Actually, Undyne, I was hoping to have a word with you on that subject. I have spoken with others of your cooking… talents.” She eyed the fish-woman dangerously. “I am supremely unamused.”

Undyne’s smile faded a little bit. This was clearly not how she expected this conversation to go. “Uh… I thought I could, you know, take some of the burden off ya. I don’t-”

“Silence.” Toriel stood with all the force and authority a Queen could muster. “If you wish to be allowed in a kitchen ever again you will submit to my lessons. But I am not a cruel mistress. I will not make you learn from the beginning. In fact, I believe the best strategy would be to find a dish and style which meshes with your existing knowledge and branch out from there.”

Undyne raised her eyebrow. “And, what does that mean?”

Toriel pulled up her sleeves, then picked up the wok already on the stovetop in one hand. “It means, beginning tonight, I will introduce you to the wonderful world…” She gestured with her free hand and the wok exploded into a roaring fire. The flames reached nearly to the ceiling and bathed the kitchen in orange light. Toriel closed her fist and the flames dissipated. Her smirk at Undyne’s open-mouthed gape revealed a single canine. “… of flambé.”

* * *

Silas adjusted the rear-view mirror so he was looking at himself. In his younger days he detested his nose. It was long and aristocratic in a way that clashed with the rest of his features. What should have been a lovely portrait of high cheekbones and well-defined angles was marred by an inescapable protuberance. Now he was thankful for it; it distracted from how his face was too small and too soft for a man of twenty six years, his chin too smooth to have ever needed a razor. He would not have dared wear a binder or a suit, or legally changed his name to “Silas”, without the nose. Even then, on some days (like today) no matter how carefully he styled his hair or altered his posture, he had trouble seeing a man and not a butch lesbian looking back at him from the other side of the mirror. He had not seen his father in person for several years, not since he came out, and he had not planned on ever seeing him again. He knew his father accepted him, Silas would not be living in that condo if he didn’t, but today he would find out how grudging that acceptance was. He would rather have not ever found out.

His father lived in the hills, away from the crowds and bustle of the city. He had bought the land and built the house decades ago when Weymouth was still a town, before golden flower tea gave it a unique industry and turned it into a city. The investment paid off well for him, and the house was now worth four times what it was then. Despite this it seemed rather humble from the exterior other than its size, with vinyl siding over a cement foundation which poked up slightly above the ground. The windows were framed with white (non-functional) shutters, and elegant curtains served in the place of shades. Silas and Asgore walked up the stone steps leading to the front door and rang the bell. Silas expected a maid or manservant to open the door and bring him to the sitting room. He had to have them, even if he was retired he would not be able to maintain this house by himself. He did not expect his father, in person, to be the one to answer the door.

Reginald Sr. bore the same sharp beak-like nose as his sons. He was of course impeccably dressed; even if he did not leave the house he still put on a suit if he was looking or even thinking about business. That alone told Silas he was not seeing this as a social call. His face was gaunt and his hair, once blond, had almost entirely grayed into a distinguished white-gold. He regarded his child carefully, lips pursing a brief moment before speaking. “Silas.”

Silas released a breath he had not realized he was holding. “Father.” He gestured to his side and said, “This is King Asgore Dreemurr, of the monsters under Mt. Ebott. Asgore, this is my father, Reginald Pembrooke.”

Asgore bowed his head very slightly so his crown would remain on top of his head. “Your son has been a wonderful gift to us.”

“Is that so? Then I give that gift gladly.” He smiled cordially but Silas held his breath again. Reginald and Asgore shook each other’s hands, Reginald’s hand being enveloped entirely by the king’s massive paw. Asgore was careful with his strength and Reginald returned the handshake firmly. He then turned to his son. “I haven’t seen you since you went off to college. I was beginning to believe I had slighted you in some way.”

“I admit I was unsure what kind of homecoming I would receive. I apologize for not contacting you earlier, I-”

“Yes, yes,” Reginald waved off like he had heard the story dozens of times before. “You have been absorbed in your work and could not spare the time to think of your family. After this long I could hardly expect you to change.”

There were two ways that could be taken and Silas was unsure which he meant. That was twice in a minute. But surely he was being oversensitive. He had to have been reading too much into it. Right? “I beg your pardon?”

Reginald ignored him and looked over and up to his guest. “You are even larger in person, your highness. If you weren’t trying to bunch yourself up I would be intimidated.”

Asgore gave him an embarrassed grin. “The world of humans is ill-sized for me. But you do not need to speak formally; I am King of the Monsters for only a few days more.”

“Drat,” Reginald said with a laugh. “And here I thought I could finally be knighted like I’ve wanted since I was a boy. But come in! Come in! Dinner should be ready soon, let us head to the dining room. Erm, the chairs may be…”

“If I could have a few pillows to kneel on that would be fine,” Asgore said as he squeezed through the doorframe. “I am larger than most other monsters as well, so it is not considered odd for me to kneel at the table while others sit when I visit my subjects.”

“So, Japanese style,” Reginald said thoughtfully. “Well, I won’t object if that’s your culture.” He waved the two of them on and led them down a hallway with soft lighting and a long ornate carpet over hardwood floors. They looked almost exactly the same as they did when Silas was… younger. It put him in that same frame of mind as well, like stepping through the front door sent him back in time eight years. It was exactly what he was afraid of, and exactly why he had not come back to visit during college. It was most especially unwelcome today, when his skin itched and his suit felt like a costume.

His father turned to him, “So, I hear you’re a foster parent now. I was under the impression you disliked children. They must have made quite an impression on you.”

Silas exhaled sharply. “Something like that, yes. Seeing them in such dire straits I couldn’t leave them alone. That’s all it comes down to.”

“It isn’t that simple, we both know that. But it does remind me.” Reginald snapped his fingers. “Do you need help with… anything?”

Silas willfully misinterpreted the question. He was surely asking about medical matters, but what was on his mind was of less personal nature. “In order to get room for the monsters to build their new homes at the base of Mt. Ebott, I will need to negotiate with the current owner of that land. Can you provide me with any insight you might have into Ms. Beatrice Lincoln?”

Reginald tilted back his head and laughed. That was probably not a good sign. “I don’t envy you, having to deal with her. She’s one of the tea moguls, and her personal fortune is in the billions. That’s with a ‘b’. And she earned all of it herself: starting with almost nothing, crushing her rivals, and keeping few friends. Very accurate bullshit detector, and impossible to rattle. And she never, and I mean _never_ , gives out anything for free. Even her philanthropy is worked out based on what she needs for tax deductions to the penny. And don’t think she’s gotten better over time; she’s got more spunk at 79 than I’ve seen in people a third her age. Whatever trickery you managed on poor Governor Patrick won’t work on her.”

“About what I expected,” Silas said with a wince.

They arrived at a solid oak door, which Reginald opened into a grand dining room. A crystal chandelier hung over a maplewood table long enough to seat a dozen comfortably with a red tablecloth over it. Already seated was- Silas stiffened. There was a young man in a polo shirt and dark jeans. The man’s blue eyes sparkled as he looked up and spotted Silas, an expression not mirrored on Silas’ own face. Despite this the two men looked very similar; same color hair, similar complexion, the same long nose.

Silas shot a look at his father. “What is the meaning of this? He should be-”

“Your _brother_ ,” Reginald stepped on his question as he rounded the table to sit at the head, “heard that you were coming and insisted on returning from school for just this one night. I’ll go check the status of our supper, I’ll let you two catch up and be right back.” He backpedaled out of the room and closed the doors behind him, giving Silas a smile and a wink before he did so.

“Hey,” Reginald Jr., or ‘Reggie’, said as he stood and walked over to Silas. “Sorry I’m not really dressed for this. As soon as I heard you were coming I rushed to come back home for at least a few hours.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

Reggie paused like he was a record and the needle just skipped, but barreled on anyway with a nervous laugh. “I get that you’re still mad, but this is the first time we’ve seen each other since-”

“Since you made your opinion perfectly clear,” he said with a sneer. Every word dripped venom.

Reggie licked his lips, the smile on his face fading. “… Okay, I deserve that. Back then, I was taken off guard and said some things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry. I know that this is important for you but… look, it’s hard for me too. I’ve had a big sister so long I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about an older brother. I don’t really get it, but I’m trying. I really am.”

Silas’ eyes flashed. “That would have meant a lot more two years ago, when I came to you confused and scared and you justified all my fears.”

“Aw c’mon Leese, at least-!”

That did it. Silas felt his spine stiffen. He spun on the balls of his feet and called over his opposite shoulder, “Thank my father for his hospitality, but I really must be on my way. Perhaps I can join you-”

Reggie grabbed onto Silas’ hand and tugged to stop him. “Wait, I’m sorry, that slipped out. I just said this is hard for me, you know? Hey, I’m your brother. The only one you’ve got. Don’t you think we owe each other a bit of leeway?”

Silas’ lips drew back in a snarl. “I owe you-”

“ _AAAAA-CHOO!_ ”

A sneeze thundered throughout the room and both men whirled toward Asgore. The king of monsters wrinkled his nose and opened and closed his mouth a few times to loosen his jaw. “Sorry,” he said lamely.

“B-bless you,” Reggie stammered, apparently having just now noticed the king and craning his neck. “You’re uh… a big fellow, aren’t you?”

Silas, too, had forgotten all about Asgore when confronted with his brother. He was not acting like himself. He was letting himself get too agitated. As much as he wanted to tell Reggie off their father clearly intended for them to patch things up. In his house, Silas would play by his rules. “Fine. Fine. I… may be a little on edge due to all the stress, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you. I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” Reggie brushed it off. “You’ve got, uh, a lot on your plate. And I’m sorry too.”

“Excellent!” the father of the boys announced as he returned. “I hope you did not embarrass yourselves in front of our guest.”

Asgore moved a chair aside and knelt at the table, his height now reduced to something more manageable. He was still so wide as to take two spots, however. He gave an awkward smile as he assured Reginald, “They’re quite spirited. It reminds me of being young again.”

“Is that so?” Reginald eyed his sons but said nothing. “Well, food is on its way. Tell me, are you allergic to seafood? Even here on the coast real lobster is quite expensive and I would hate for you to miss out.”

“I do not believe so,” Asgore said. “It has been a very long time since I’ve eaten meat that wasn’t snail.”

“What luck! I had considered having escargot instead!” Reginald laughed and Asgore chuckled politely, but Silas and Reggie did not. They had still yet to sit down: every time Silas was about to sit Reggie would move to take the chair opposite him, which prompted Silas to try and move one spot over, Reggie followed, Silas escaped, ad nauseum. Reginald sighed as he caught wind of their antics. “Just sit,” he ordered. They did so, Silas glaring at Reggie as they sat across from one another.

“Yes,” Asgore said with a wince. “Very… very spirited.”

* * *

“Uuuuuuugh, I’m so booooooooored…”

Undyne paced around the living room and kitchen while informing everyone of her current emotional state. Her complaint rang true. Alphys had completed her report for the Queen and was browsing the internet. Frisk curled themself up on the recliner, using the armrest as a pillow and watching television unenthusiastically. Marty, Silas’ designated house-sitter, sat at the kitchen table with his head down and arms curled up around his face to block the light. His attempts at napping were not going well, not the least because of Papyrus’ inability or unwillingness to regulate his audio and Undyne poking him every few minutes hoping for some stimulation.

“I suppose a break would serve us well,” Toriel admitted. She and Papyrus were discussing monster integration and how to win the trust of humanity, but they had spent the entire afternoon and a good chunk of the morning doing that. “But we cannot leave the house; not all of us will fit in the small car left to us, and even if we could we are forbidden from being out in public.”

“And there’s no vid-yo games,” Frisk grumbled. “And Silas doesn’t own any movies Toriel will let me watch.”

“Never fear!” Papyrus cried. “When things got a little dull underground, there was always board games!”

The monsters perked up a bit, nodding in agreement. Marty caught the atmosphere and looked at them suspiciously. “I thought our old crew was kinda weird to care about those things. But you all seem… remarkably okay with that.”

Papyrus explained, “Some monsters enjoy physical competition, but for many of us board games are an excellent pastime! Low-cost, reusable entertainment that fosters community… it’s really valuable when you spend your whole life within a few miles of where you were born! Most monsters know the rules for things like chess and reversi, copies of those end up floating through the dump all the time. We also know older games that can be crafted with what we had underground, like Morris. But every so often a strange one will come up like Ticket to Ride or a memo someone wrote on how to play Skulls & Roses, and when a new game comes down there’s always a rush to learn how to play it.”

“Huh,” Marty said, rubbing his chin. “That’s pretty interesting. Alright then, I’ll help you pick something out. I recognize a couple of the games here, but not all of them.” He picked through the boxes like a miner shifting rock in their search for precious ore, arranging them into two piles. “Everything in this one I know, I’ve never played these ones. Geez, how and why does Silas own so _many_ of these…?”

“Ah!” Papyrus picked up a relatively small box. “This one! I looked at it earlier and it seemed like a friendly and pleasant game. I was hoping to get a chance to try it! Not sure how to pronounce this, though. Sar-sass-own-ay?”

“It’s _Carcassone_ (KAR-kass-ON),” Marty corrected, adding a bit of accent to the last syllable. “It’s French. It’s a pretty simple game but a lot of fun. So, you’ve got these stacks of tiles, right? And on them there’s roads, fields, city walls, and some other stuff. On your turn you take a tile and place it face-up around other tiles that fit it; you can’t end a road by driving it into a wall or plant a field in the middle of a city.”

Papyrus straightened up. “Like a puzzle!”

“Kinda, yeah! You can also claim a road, abbey, city, or field by putting a tiny wooden person called a ‘meeple’ on it. When the city or road is finished you pick them back up and score points based on how large you got to make it. When there are no more tiles to place the player who’s got the most points wins.”

“So we’re all helping each other build a lovely countryside!” Toriel said. “How wonderful!”

Marty stared at her for a moment before his face split into an ear-to-ear grin. “Sure. It’s a lovely game of friendship and unity. I’ll let you guys do the first round without me, I wanna see how it plays out. Anyone else want in on this?”

Toriel noticed Frisk poking their head up over the back of the recliner, roused from their listlessness by the flurry of activity and excitement. “Frisk, you should join us!” They nodded and bounded over, taking a seat next to Toriel.

Undyne called out, “You too, Alphys! We’ve only just met the Queen, a board game would be a great way to get to know her better!”

Alphys tore herself away from the computer with considerably more difficulty than Frisk with the computer, but she acquiesced. “W-W-W-Well, okay I guess. Uh, please treat me nicely…”

“No way!” Undyne barked. “We’re going all-in, full power, no mercy! Though we’re friends outside the game, once it begins we’re bitter rivals! Crush all our enemies!”

“It would be better to manage your expectations,” Toriel said. “I am not sure there will be much competition in this game.” At this Marty covered his mouth with his hand and sputtered, but waved Toriel off when she eyed him suspiciously.

Each player got their supply of meeples: the red ones to Frisk, yellow to Alphys, blue to Undyne, pink to Toriel, and black for Papyrus. Again they offered the green pieces to Marty, but he politely declined. The game began with each player putting down tiles and meeples, Marty explaining how pieces and scoring functioned as it came up. After about five minutes everyone had the basic rules down; the most curious rule was that a field, road, or city that already had been claimed by a meeple of one player could not be claimed by another. However, if a player began a new feature and later connected it to one owned by another player, they would earn equal points when it was completed. That was how Undyne and Frisk began working together to build a large city, combining their turns to add onto it and make it truly gigantic.

It was seven minutes into the game that Frisk picked up a new piece, one with a field along two sides and walled cities taking up the others. Chara studied the tile Frisk had picked up, then the state of the board. “Hey Frisk,” they said darkly. “Ask to see the rules real quick. Pull them up in front of you so they can’t see you.” Frisk did as asked, unfurling the rules sheet like a map to a forgotten civilization. With their face hidden from the other players they raised an eyebrow while Chara skimmed the rules to see if a particular circumstance was accounted for. They swallowed when they saw the answer. They whispered so Papyrus could not overhear, “The reality of this game is not as friendly as everyone thinks; it was made by humans, remember. Their cruel and greedy nature has been woven into the rules in a very subtle way. I see a way to use the piece you have to gain a lot of points, but its going to change the nature of this game pretty drastically when everyone else sees what you’ve done. And let me warn you, monsters can get awfully competitive once they’ve been given the go-ahead. So here’s the question: do you want to see this peaceful game of building and co-operation continue?” Their smile and eyes thinned in malevolence. “Or do you want to win?”

Frisk regarded them carefully. Then, still hidden from the other players, an evil smile to match Chara’s spread on their own face.

“Good answer,” Chara said. “Okay, here’s what you do…”

Frisk put their tile down and added one of their red wooden persons on top of it, starting a new city a couple spaces away from the city they were building with Undyne. Their next turn they put down another city tile to connect the new and old cities together. Marty was in on the secret; he winked at Frisk knowingly but said nothing. Undyne furrowed her brow and slowly turned her head to stare at the child. Frisk wondered what their face said about them right now. Did Undyne realize, on some level, she had been tricked? Or how badly?

It did not matter, there was nothing she could do about it now. With just a few more tiles the city was completed. “Soooooo what happens now?” Undyne asked. “There’s two of Frisk’s people on there and one of mine. How do we score this?”

In a cloying, sing-song tone Marty said, “Oh dear. It’s been such a long time, I don’t remember. Can someone read the rule sheet and find out?” He was clearly having trouble stopping himself from bursting into laughter.

Alphys began poking through the rules. After a moment she found the section she had been looking for, how to score completed territories with more than one person’s meeples in control. Her claws shook as she reread the section. “W-Well,” she started. “To start with, Frisk has more of their meeples, so they get the full point value for completing the city.”

“Do you know how much that is, Frisk?” Toriel said. “It’s two points per tile, with an additional two points for each flag. How much is that?”

Frisk licked their lips and their head flicked to the side. Chara refused to give the answer so it took Frisk a moment to arrive at it. “Twenny… twenny-two points!”

“Very good!” Toriel congratulated.

Undyne shrugged. “Pretty nice! So what, I get half that or something?” Eleven points was not too great for all the effort she put into that city, but it was better than-

“Um,” Alphys said, tilting her glasses so the reflection completely obscured her eyes. “You get nothing.”

Undyne’s face froze in a bared-teeth grimace. “What.”

“It says right here,” Alphys said, pointing with one claw. “If a structure is completed and one player has more meeples on the property, they get the full value of the feature and everyone else gets zero points.”

No one said anything as what just happened sunk in. Frisk tried to keep the smug satisfied grin off their face. Marty began a slow clap, and everyone turned to look at him. “Congrats, kid,” he said with genuine praise. “You’re the first one to figure it out. I would have put my money on the dinosaur, so good job.”

Toriel looked down at the gameboard again, seeming to see it for the first time. “Oh,” she said finally, rubbing the top of her pink pieces. “I think… I am beginning to see how this game is supposed to be played.”

“Indeed,” Alphys said with dark rumbles and steepled fingers. “This game… is actually rather cutthroat.”

Papyrus said nothing. He did not need to. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, rolling one of his black meeples in his palm like it were a die. Before he was paying only half-hearted attention to the game; now he stared at the arrangement of tiles like a dagger was going to come bursting out of it at any second.

Undyne glared at Frisk, who only shrugged. “You told us to crush our emenies,” they said with a sheepish grin.

She reared her head back and roared in laughter, slapping her thigh. “Well hot damn! The kid actually pulled one over on me.” Oh, she wasn’t mad. That was good. Frisk’s smile widened. Then it ran in terror from Undyne’s shark-tooth grin as she pressed her face right against theirs. “But don’t think you’ve won. Oh-ho-hoooo no. You’ve only _begun the game._ ”

“I take it by your current terror you did not fully understand my warning,” Chara mused. “You remember what Gerson said? Monsters can age or even die if they hold onto their anger and aggression for too long. So they channel that into games and sports. For all their friendliness they have a lot of steam to let off.” A glance around the table showed this: the monsters glared at the board, chuckling darkly to themselves as they no longer saw opportunities to co-operate but weaknesses to exploit. Chara looked down at the game board, an identical look on their own face. “Now, the battle truly begins.”

* * *

Asgore was not used to eating human food. It had been over a thousand years, he had forgotten how it stuck to his insides and made him feel heavier with every bite he swallowed. It would be converted to energy in time, true, but it would be a matter of hours instead of seconds. He considered whether it would be socially acceptable to reheat the food on his plate with fire magic, turning it into monster food right at the table. Probably not. The food itself tasted strongly of salt, and not in the good way. It also took some effort to crack the shells to get at the meat inside, even for someone with his strength. He was very careful to pick the meat clean of any shell fragments; Toriel, when she figuratively let her fur down, could toss snails into her mouth and bite clean through the shells with an ear-splitting crunch. It was likely the dragon in her bloodline, making her teeth hard as diamonds. His own teeth were more like a cat or a bat’s, he never figured out which, and much too fragile for such a feat.

The two brothers sat across the table from one another. Looking at them side by side the resemblance was uncanny; they had the same oval face, the same long nose, the same blond hair (though Reggie wore his long with dark highlights woven into them while Silas’ was shorter and considerably more over-managed). If it were not for their hair Asgore could very easily mistake one for the other, though he supposed they would not look so identical to someone who had been differentiating human faces between each other all their lives. Their body language could not have been more different, however. Silas’ movements were stiff and sullen, like every bite took physically and emotional effort. He stared into his plate, refusing to look up or to the side or anywhere but his food. His annoyance radiated off him as a tangible oppressive force. Reggie ate at a more leisurely pace and with a lazier air, looking about him every few moments (but never at Asgore, he noticed). Several times he watched Silas for a few moments, lips pursed, before returning to his dinner.

Asgore was reminded of his own family dinners, before everything went wrong. Everyone would share stories about how their day went, or what kind of people they met, or what progress they had made on long-term goals, or even what they were excited about. He remembered when Chara first arrived; for the first few days they took their meals away from everyone else, and only after considerably prodding by Asriel did they begin sitting down at the table. Even then they would act very much like what Silas was doing now, never volunteering information or asking a question of anyone else while answering anything directed at them in shrugs or monosyllables. It took them months before they got a handle on mealtime conversation. He was starting to wonder whether that was Chara’s introversion or if reticence at mealtime was common to all humans. Did humans ever eat like a family? Did they enjoy each other’s company, or did all of them treat family dinners like an ordeal to pass through?

“You know,” Reggie, broke the stalemate. “You’ve always been kinda posh, but college made you a lot worse. It’s not like we’re old money, you don’t have to talk so formal even the Queen of England would tell you to loosen up.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “I’ve been going to a speech therapist so I can speak more like a man. I’m not fully used to it yet, so I tend to over-correct if I get agitated.”

Reggie nodded. “Ah, I’d been wondering how you’ve been sounding like you’ve got a set of balls to drop.”

Silas’ fork clattered against his plate. “Ugh, must you?”

His brother’s smile fell again. “I… I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

“You’re failing, please stop. I don’t have to put up with-”

“Children,” Reginald Sr. raised his voice without looking up. That was all. The two sons returned their attention to their dinners. Asgore frowned. Silas was in his twenties, and Reggie was not much younger than that. So why were they acting like such brats?

“Actually, King Asgore?” Reginald Sr. announced, putting his fork down and moving his napkin from his lap to the table. “Can you join me in the other room for a moment?” Confused, Asgore got to his feet and followed Reginald to the adjoining hallway, glancing back one last time at the estranged brothers.

In the hallway Reginald allowed his polished and affable front to crack. He sighed as he stared at the door to the dining room, shaking his head. “I confess, my primary purpose of arranging this was not to meet you, but to help my children patch things up. It was not always like this. It breaks my heart. Do you have a family, King Asgore?”

“Just Asgore, thank you. I had a family… a long time ago. I miss them still.”

“Then you understand my frustration with these two. I don’t know the details of this particular fight, neither of them will talk to me about it. It’s possible, in fact likely, that Reggie has been… undiplomatic, and my eldest can get like this when insulted. Holding grudges, refusing attempts at apologies. Slow to anger, but just as slow to cool. But that only explains it, it does not excuse the behavior. I have never seen it quite this bad. I am concerned this may not be like previous times. I… know we have only met an hour ago, but you are in a unique position to help. So I must ask for your aid.”

The king felt his cheeks get hot. He was no stranger to flattery, but no matter how many times he experienced it he could never quite handle it gracefully. “Gosh, I feel for you, but I’m not sure what I can do. I’ve known your son-” Reginald’s lip twitched at the word. “- for only a single weekend. I think if I tried to give him advice he’d say it was none of my business.”

“I would in fact put money that would be the precise reaction you will get. But try. Keep an eye out, see if you can find an opportunity to end this feud. That’s all I’m asking.” He straightened a little. “And, one other thing. Please, try to keep yourselves and my family out of danger. I don’t agree with all of their decisions, but they will forever be my children.”

Asgore thought of a human child with chestnut brown hair and red eyes playing alongside a boss monster child, and felt an instant camaraderie form with the Pembrooke patriarch. Even if his phrasing was odd in a way he could not quite place. “From one father to another, I will make sure no harm comes to him.”

Reginald’s posture softened. “Good. Good. I admit I had some doubts about this ‘monster’ business, but… humans and monsters really aren’t so different, are they? For my part, I will help you in any way I can. My child has gone to bat for you, that makes you my people too.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me,” Asgore said with a sincere warmth.

They both sighed deeply, realizing what could no longer be avoided. Reginald said with all the gravity of a man heading to the gallows, “I suppose we’d better… get back in there and finish dinner. I doubt any more progress will be made with those two today.”

The door opened to reveal Silas and Reggie in exactly the positions they were in when they left, the only difference being the food on Silas’ plate had diminished while Reggie’s had not. As Asgore walked back to his place Reginald offered, “By the way, I can get you in touch with the mayor of our fair city. I would think you would like to introduce yourselves to her first, discuss how you’re going to go public. It will be a lot easier to make a good impression with the local government on your side. Will tomorrow work for you?”

Silas put down his fork and glared. “I start work tomorrow. I’m guessing it will run late.”

“So, the answer is yes! Don’t make that face, you can’t do everything for them. No one person is going to be the savior of monsterkind; if they are to be accepted, they will have to do a lot of the work themselves. Only… can any of them drive?”

Reggie said, “I’d offer, but… I have to drive back tonight. I got class in the morning. And, uh, I don’t think you’d fit in my car. No offense, your majesty.”

What was with everyone today? “Just Asgore, thank you. Do you suppose Marty will be available?”

“Probably,” Silas scowled. “He’s basically unemployed.”

His father clapped. “Excellent! I’ll contact you later tonight or tomorrow morning with the details. This is the last thing you can expect from me for a while, though; I just finished saying you shouldn’t rely on any one person after all, ha ha ha!”

Asgore smiled and bowed his head. “Your generosity is matched only by your wisdom. I won’t let either go to waste.” Surprisingly, things were looking up.

* * *

The game was in its final stages. Only a few tiles remained to be placed. Undyne had rallied a terrific comeback after Frisk’s betrayal, so everyone was neck and neck. Alphys fiddled with one of her pieces. It would all come down to farms. She had neglected them so far, since farmers remained in place the whole game and could make you run out of pieces if you were not careful, but now was the time to sacrifice them. She placed a tile and laid her meeple down on the field to claim a farm.

“You can’t add one there,” Papyrus said calmly. “You can’t put down a meeple to claim farmland that already belongs to someone else, remember?”

Alphys’ eyes bulged. “What?! Where…!” That was when she saw Papyrus’s master plan; he had been carefully arranging the edges of the game board to allow a single contiguous field to surround the entire play area, and a second huge field somehow had materialized in the labyrinth of the countryside’s interior. He had claimed that farmland early and expanded it with meticulous precision. With just those two farmers Papyrus controlled nearly half of all available fields and was supplying several completed cities; each of those pieces were worth at least 15 points and were preventing anyone else from efficiently gaining points from farms. Alphys did mental math quickly enough to see the hopelessness of her situation. “W-we’ve been outmaneuvered…”

“Nyeh-heh-heh!” Papyrus bragged. “You thought I was harmless because I wasn’t interested in your backstabbing shenanigans, but you’ve been thoroughly japed! From the beginning I saw the value of large farms to gain many points at once while concealing the true value of my pieces. It’s too late to stop me!”

It was true; there were only a handful of tiles left and no way to dislodge tiles already placed. The game went on to its inevitable conclusion. In the end Papyrus squeaked ahead to finish in first place.

“Whew!” Toriel said with a laugh. “That was great fun! And that only lasted… an hour?”

“Thereabouts,” Marty said. “Maybe an hour fifteen. We could squeeze in another game or two if you want.”

“I think I’d like that,” Alphys said as she shuffled the tiles. “See how the game is different when we all know what’s going on from the start.” Her nervousness had disappeared, the fires of competition giving her focus worthy of a Royal Scientist.

“YEEEEEAAAAH! Revenge will be mine!” Undyne glared at Frisk, who made a “come and get it” gesture.

“In that case, pass me the green dudes.” Marty gave them all an ear-to-ear grin. “‘Cause now, you’re all in big trouble.”

“Struggle vainly!” Papyrus taunted. “I have never been beaten at _Carcassone_ , and I never will!”

They ended up playing game after game. They rotated players in and out, continuing to play even after Toriel took a break to make dinner and then sat down for her normal turn; and after Silas and Asgore returned, when Silas loosened his tie and demanded to be in on the next game and Asgore got trounced in his first game but made a respectable showing on his second; and after Undyne carried a Frisk who had laid their head down and started drooling on the table up to bed; and after the clock struck midnight and no one had the presence of mind to object when someone called for “just one more round”. For a while they forgot their duties and responsibilities and how deeply dreadfully important and fragile the next few days would be and simply… had fun.

* * *

“Here! Here!”

“(We have something!)”

Sans blinked himself awake. How long had he been out? It felt like he had not napped for more than a few minutes. His surroundings were not wholly familiar; nobody ever really went into the King’s basement. Those rows of coffins were unsettling even if you did not know what they were for. The lids had all been thrown off and set to the side so from the moment you entered the room you could tell they were empty. The last, the one with the red heart carved on the top, had been opened by the human Susan. The others had already been opened when Undyne arrived. Dogamy and Dogaressa bounced with nervous energy, eager to report their findings. “alright, what’s the scoop?”

“There’s two scents here, not counting the other human that came with Undyne,” Dogamy explained. “One was the weird puppy we met in Snowdin… Frisk the Human, right?”

“that’s their name, yeah. the other?”

“(The loud skeleton. Your brother, Papyrus.)”

“that… there must be some mistake. paps has nuthin’ to do with this.” Why would he have ever come down here? And more importantly, when? The only time he had come all the way to New Home was to stop Asgore and Frisk from fighting. Sans had been watching him, he had not made a detour into the basement before the fight and afterward he never sneaked away even once. The only time Sans could not account for is after the flower showed up, and they all regained consciousness about the same time. Papyrus could not have done this in his sleep. Although… it had been a while since Papyrus slept and it should have worked its way out of his system, but…

Dogamy interrupted his train of thought, “No, of course Papyrus isn’t involved. After all, those are the only scents here.”

“(What we mean to say is, there isn’t any scent left by the bodies.)”

That… that was bad. “wait, you’re sayin’ the humans didn’t smell like anything? but that’s-”

Dogaressa nodded. “(Impossible, yes. Even after a monster collapses into dust they still carry their scent, so a human body should keep its scent as well. We can detect smells even if they’re months old. So…)”

Dogamy finished: “The bodies were stolen a very, very long time ago.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like board games. I think the monsters would like board games too. If there’s a game you want to see them play, leave a recommendation in a comment or review and I’ll see if I can manage it in a future chapter. Note: requests for the monsters to play Monopoly will be ignored. Monopoly sucks.


	10. The Case Against Mondays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind you, it’s been almost thirty years since I was in the second grade; I don’t rightly recall what it was like outside of a few anecdotes that stuck in my mind.

_Okay. This one. The Integrity soul._

_Rebecca Troy was a ballet dancer first and a child second. She was one of those people driven to succeed, and her obsession with ballet bordered on mania. Her instructors said she had a gift, that she had the talent to be a once-in-a-generation prodigy. She even competed on the national level. But she pushed herself too fast, too far. According to doctors she started to develop ankle pain and tried to work through her injury. That only made things worse; her tendonitis became tendonosis. Surgery gave her back the ability to walk for short periods without pain, but the exercise regimen of a dancer was beyond her. Her career was over before it got started. This time when she disappeared along with her beloved tutu, leotard, and ballet shoes her parents immediately suspected the mountain and organized a search party. No trace of her was ever found, and once again the caves leading into the Underground somehow escaped their notice._

… _There’s no way I can be unbiased here. No monster could. Whatever her life was like on the surface she didn’t have the right to… to do what she did when she reached the capital. We have most of it on video. I can’t bring myself to watch any of the tapes except for the last one. Gaster and Sans confronted Rebecca. They talked for a bit, but there’s no audio and the frame rate isn’t high enough to make out Gaster’s signs. Everyone involved became more and more agitated until Rebecca was screaming and charging at them, then Gaster… he summoned these horrible skull heads which fired bursts of concentrated energy from their mouths. There’s something… wrong with Gaster’s attack. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about it gives me the creeps. And I don’t think it’s that he killed someone with them. More like, his attack is something that should not be. Asking questions is useless now, anyway. Gaster’s vanished and no one knows when or if he’ll return. And Sans… he won’t talk about what happened or what she said that made Gaster use that attack. He’s always deflected, saying she was just saying crazy stuff and was clearly out of her mind._

_In all, she killed forty monsters in fifteen minutes. There are a lot of people in the capital that are glad Rebecca’s dead. I don’t think learning what happened on the surface will change their minds._

* * *

Susan groaned, curled up on the couch with a bag of ice on her head. The rest of her body was beneath three layers of blankets and she still felt cold. Meanwhile her forehead burned even with the ice providing relief. Everything was weak and sore.

“There you go again, Shuchun, trying to do too much,” her mother sighed, her Chinese coming out like machine gun bullets. She took the thermometer out of Susan’s mouth and sighed at having to push an extra button to get the Celsius readout. “Oh, you are sick, daughter dear. Very very sick. You will stay home today, let mother take care of you.”

It was her own fault; she was up half the night, unable to sleep for all her mind was racing. It was hard for her to believe just two days ago she was running through an Underground world filled with fantastical monsters, and now she could not even peel herself off the couch. She was not any closer to settling her thoughts. Stupid Silas, stupid monsters, stupid Frisk, she had worked herself up into such a lather of what to do about them all it literally made her worried sick! Still, she had duties to attend to. She made a move to throw the blankets off herself but her mother’s hand stopped her. “It’s just a cold, mom. I’ll be fine.”

Her mother huffed. “Where did you get this work ethic from? Certainly not from me. Would you have preferred it if I was one of those tiger mothers? Making you practice piano or violin until your fingers bled? Well too bad. You have a lazy, lackadaisical mother who does not go in for all this overwork nonsense. Burning twice as bright for a tenth as long, where is the sense in that? No, you rest now. I’ve already called out sick on your behalf, they said it would be fine.”

Susan was not ready to give up yet. She struggled to lift her head from the pillow. Her whole body shook with the effort. “But my kids… they’re gonna make the nurse teach ‘em. I can’t leave them in the hands of that bore…”

“Those children will survive one day of napping at their desks. Now quit your complaining and rest.” She patted Susan’s knee through the covers. “Homemade chicken soup is the best thing for a cold, but we only have canned soup. Sorry your mother is such a bad cook. I will have some ready for you in a bit. What are you still doing up? Go sleep!”

She did not have the energy to fight any more. Her head buried itself in the pillow as she exhaled sharply. “At least put the TV on. Maybe the noise will help me nap.”

“Noise helps you sleep? Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me all those chemicals in your food make you healthy!” Despite her complaints she turned on the television. “There, watch your talking heads and bad soaps. Rest well, dear.”

Susan coughed. “Thanks, mom.” She closed her eyes and sighed. She might be able to sneak out once her mother left for work, but by then school would have started and what would be the point? So she surrendered, allowing the buzz of daytime talk TV to lull her into the sleep that had eluded her so successfully the night before.

* * *

Since it would be another week until this house was added to the bus driver’s route, Marty would drive Frisk to and from school in the meantime. Silas was concerned about letting the remaining monsters have full run of the house while he was at work and Marty was running errands. But it could not be helped, and besides they had been conscientious house guests so far. Homeschooling might be an option later once monsters were recognized but for the moment there was no avoiding the public school system: Toriel had to focus on monster integration before she could do anything else, getting into a private school would take time, money, and energy Silas did not have to spare, and charter schools would not accept a poor student into their ranks at any price. Besides, Toriel thought it was important that Frisk spend time around their fellow humans and become acclimated to them. When Toriel and Marty had finished explaining all this Chara had winced and apologized, “This is at least partially due to how vocal I was about disliking humans. They don’t want you to hate your own species as much as I do. Did. Do.”

It was not that big a deal; Frisk knew they would have to go back someday. “I’ll be good at school, Toriel. Don’t worry about me.”

“Man, I don’t miss getting up this early,” Marty said while drinking coffee straight from the pot. After a moment he looked at the pot of coffee, smacked his lips, and asked Toriel, “Hey, if it’s not too much trouble could you warm this back up for me? Thanks.” Toriel obliged, and this time when he took a swig his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Oh wow, when the caffeine is monster-ized it hits you all at once. Gonna have to remember that trick, I am _wired_. Alright Friskers, let’s get going before this wears off!”

Marty dropped them off at school, where an adult was waiting for them. Chara floated to the side and just behind Frisk as they waved goodbye to Marty. Chara vibrated in mid-air, looking up at the building with wide eyes. “Sorry,” they said with a little bit of a squeak. “It’s just, I’ve never been to school before, not even kindergarten. I’m finally going to get to see what it’s like! I mean, I know it’s going to be filled with lots of humans and I’m not thrilled about that, but I should be able to manage. Everyone’s here to learn things, I want to learn things, they don’t need to know I exist, so it’ll work out!”

Frisk sighed. They were going to learn some things, all right. “Chara,” they said, confident the teacher could not hear them. “I need to ask you. Please, if I’m going to do something stupid, you have to stop me.”

“Stupid?” Chara asked. “Such as…?”

“It’s the same every time. I get sent to a new family, I try to be nice and good and sweet to make friends, but it never works. Then I get mad and ruin it.” They took a shaky breath. “Toriel is the best mom I’ve ever had. Nobody else will ever take me. I _can’t_ mess this up. I hafta to be a good kid and make it work.”

Chara shrugged. “I’m not sure what you expect of me, but I’ll do my best.”

By this time they had gotten close enough to the teacher that Frisk was risking being overheard. He was a small man with a thin beard and heavy bags under his eyes, lesson planner in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. “Are you… Frisk Holder?” he asked. His voice was a low monotone, the kind that reached inside your head and fumbled for the “off” switch. Frisk nodded, partially to rattle their brain in an attempt to not fall asleep on their feet. “I see. My name is Mr. Moulton. Good morning, Frisk.”

He sounded like he was already bored of dealing with Frisk and was about to fall asleep on his feet at any moment. At least his name was easy to pronounce. Frisk gave him their best smile. “Good morning Mr. Moulton!”

He nodded, satisfied with Frisk’s mastery of the ritual morning greeting. “Very good. Follow me to the classroom.” He opened the front door with the hand that held the planner and inserted his loafer into the crack, pushing it open the rest of the way with his foot while gesturing inside.

The second grade classrooms were in the middle of the first floor, requiring Frisk and Mr. Moulton to walk past the rambunctious first graders. Their shouts and shrieks echoed like howler monkeys trying to talk over each other. The walls were covered with decorations made of construction paper spattered with glitter and markers. The corkboard was pinned with several brightly-colored notices of upcoming events and contests trying to elbow each other to make Frisk notice them. As they walked Mr. Moulton informed them, “Normally I’m the school nurse, but today I will be serving as your substitute. Your normal teacher is out sick today, you should meet her tomorrow, or Wednesday at the latest. Do you know the days of the week?”

Frisk nodded. “There’s Monday, and Tuesday, and… Wedsday, and Thursday, and Friday. Then it’s the weekend.” They hoped he would leave it at that; “Sunday” was easy enough but “Saturday” always gave them trouble.

“Good. I will ask no questions about recent events. Others may not be so polite. Please remember you can refuse to answer any questions you don’t want to, no matter who asks them. I’m sure their curiosity will fade with time.” Oh, right… just last week Frisk had been listed as a missing child. They gulped down their anticipation. Normally everyone ignored the new kid, but maybe this time it would be different?

The door was open and kids were sitting on desks, running through aisles, and clumping up in groups of four or five. “Settle down class, everyone to your seats,” Mr. Moulton droned. The crowd dispersed, leaving only Frisk standing at the front. “We have a new student today. This is Frisk Holder. Everyone make them feel welcome.”

The children smiled and said, “Good morning Frisk,” all at different times and different cadences. There were a few disinterested glances but most of the kids were not even looking at them. Frisk was very familiar with this song and dance. Transfer students were to be regarded with suspicion at best and disdain at worst. This new school would be no different, it seemed, but they could not let that stop them. Time to try this again. Stand up straight, big smile, and, “Iz nice to meet you.”

Mr. Moulton said, “Very good. You may sit… hm… there.” He pointed to an empty seat in the fourth column, second from the back. Not close enough to the window to look outside but close enough to get a nice breeze. Could be a lot worse. Frisk hurried to their new seat.

A girl from the last row, directly behind Frisk’s new seat, raised her hand. “Mr. Moulton, why can’t the new kid sit over there?” She indicated an empty spot across the room, middle row, first column closest to the door.

Mr. Moulton referred to his class roster and made a humming sound of faint disapproval. “That’s where Oswald sits. Did you already forget him?” The girl sheepishly shook her head but the color on her cheeks suggested she had.

A rough looking boy raised his hand but did not wait to be called on before asking, “Hey, how come he doesn’t have to come to school?”

“Oswald is sick. Now let me just add Frisk to the roster and… there you are, you are now part of the class. Oh, I forgot. Good morning class.” A chorus of “Good morning Mr. Moulton” resounded from the children. “Your first period is history; your teacher left me some worksheets for you to do. Please read the material carefully and answer the questions. I will be available to answer questions, but if you finish early you may read quietly until the rest of the class finishes.” He handed out stacks of papers to the first person in each row, who took one of the stapled bundles and passed the rest back.

Frisk took theirs but did not look at it yet. If they saw it before they were prepared it would be bad luck. Instead they inhaled deeply, eyes toward the ceiling. Please let this be okay. Please let it change. Maybe their time in the Underground or all the Saves and Loads finally knocked some piece of detritus loose, or pushed the two halves of their brain into alignment, or something that would let them be normal and not stupid. They looked down at the worksheet, skipping the instructions and going right to the first quiz question.

 _l) MhGm bib ChnizfoqhGn SoIomdvs aiscouGn AmGnieo?_  
o. l77G  
d. l4gs  
e. lEGg  
b. 1SOB

Frisk’s eyes burned. They squinted at the page but the letters refused to rearrange themselves into anything that made the slightest sense. They opened their eyes and mentally begged, no, _pleaded_ with Chara to save them. Chara looked down at them, uncaring. “I keep telling you, I’m not going to be around forever. You shouldn’t rely on me for things like this, it will only set you up for failure later on. You need to tell them you can’t read.”

They knew that, they agreed that they should tell Toriel and Silas, but Chara did not understand, they did not get it. They had to be a good kid, they could not be a bother. They would not be able to stand seeing Toriel’s disappointed face when she realized the child she pledged to take care of was so irreparably broken. So fine. Fine! Frisk snarled as they circled the answers without trying to understand the questions. One of the four had to be correct, right? And it would be the same for all the other questions. Maybe if they got lucky, really really lucky, they could pass this.

* * *

In most jobs in most companies your first day is a meet and greet. You say hello to your neighbors, note the name of your immediate supervisor and their place in the chain of command, add the IT person’s name and phone number to your speed dial, etcetera. If you are feeling ambitious you might shadow someone else to get a feel for the nuts and bolts of the work you will be doing. But a public defender works for the government- the perpetually overworked, underpaid, understaffed government- and so your first day is a folderful of clients with today’s court date, directions to the local courtroom, and a hearty “good luck”. Silas had already been through this treatment in Texas, although there he had been given so many clients it was mathematically impossible to meet with all of them in the span of a single workday. Here at least he could probably manage everyone in a day if he hurried, but that would not make it pleasant. There was no way around it, public defender was a crap job. Usually only people just starting out with no connections did this kind of work; the hours were long, the pay stunk, and the hatred people had for rapists and killers was only slightly more extreme than the odium they held for the people tasked with defending rapists and killers. The public was convinced that every defense attorney was a walking bag of slime, a say-anything do-anything devil who acted as the friendly face of mastermind villains to evade justice. As an attorney for the lowest and least of defendants Silas had long ago become familiar with the true face of criminality. Like the man in front of him now, breathlessly telling him about being railroaded and the charges being, in his words, “complete fucking bullshit”.

“- and there was no goddamn way that was happening, so I socked him right in the face! I mean, right? He was trying to rape her! How is that assault?”

“It isn’t,” Silas admitted, listening closely. It was perfectly legal to act in self-defense on someone else’s behalf of course. But he still had doubts; any officer would know that, so why arrest his client on the scene? “Does the story end there?”

“Well, yeah,” the client said while shaking his head ‘no’. “That’s basically it.”

“You punched him a few times and… what, he fell unconscious?”

“Naw, man, he tripped and fell over after the first hit! I went to check on my friend, make sure she was okay, you know? She was in shock, could barely move, taking everything she had to keep from crying. And of course the asshole’s trying to slip away, holding his pants up so he doesn’t trip on them. So I ran over and knocked him down again. I had to keep kicking him until he learned to stay down and-”

“So you had the opportunity to retreat, and instead resumed attacking someone who was no longer a threat.”

“Are you listening?! I had no idea who this guy was, he could have had a half-dozen buddies around the corner! And if I let him get away I’d never find him again! I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it, I had to make him pay!”

Silas drummed his fingers on the table. “Stopping him was the right thing to do. You weren’t wrong. But you went too far. As far as the law is concerned you had no right to keep hitting him after he tried to flee. Now, did you tell this story to the officer?”

The client nodded, eyes narrowed. “Well, yeah, of course I did. I had to get him to see things my way.”

“ _After_ he read you your rights?”

The defendant took a moment to respond as he realized, at just that moment, how he had screwed up. “… Yeah.”

This was the reality of crime. The vast majority of crimes are not committed by masterminds who meticulously think through every step of their villainous scheme. They are done by stressed out, desperate people with poor impulse control lashing out at a world they see, rightly or not, as unfair. They did not plan, they did not plot, they certainly did not draw out a risk/reward matrix for whether their immediate gratification was worth the possibility of being caught. People who thought with their hearts and acted with their hands before their heads had a chance to catch up. The police had a term for these people: “knuckleheads”. Silas was a bit more sympathetic than to call them that, but he had to admit it was an apt term.

“Listen,” Silas insisted. “This is not the end of the world. Do you have any priors? You ever been arrested for anything else?”

He shrugged. “Shoplifting when I was still in school, but that goes away, right?”

Silas was about to provide what was true for Texas, stopped himself, and explained correctly, “It gets sealed, yes, so it can’t be viewed by the public. It’s still there, though, and the prosecutor will have access to it.” Silas wrote a note down. “Still, that was almost ten years ago. You’re not a violent person, and you generally stay on the right side of the law. Everyone’s entitled to a few slip-ups. And an imperfect self-defense plea is certainly better than nothing. I’ll talk to the prosecutor about your case, see what I can get for a deal.”

The man blinked at him. “You mean we’re not fighting it?”

“We could,” Silas admitted. “But they have your confession.”

“Right, fuck.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Silas tapped a few keys on his tablet to re-familiarize himself with the statutes. What luck, like Texas New Hampshire did not class assault and battery as separate crimes. “Don’t get me wrong, if I can get them to drop the case I will. But at the very least I can probably talk them into listing the incident as Class B Simple Assault. It would mean a fine but no jail time.”

“No jail,” the man said, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.”

“I’ll see you again in the courtroom,” Silas said as he shook the man’s hand. “I hate to rush you but there isn’t much time before the court is in session and I want to try and meet with one more person before then.” He arrived an hour early and this was only the third client he had spoken with out of the twenty he would be representing today. He had briefly perused all the cases and ideally he would have been able to see all of them before their trial, but given this was literally his first day on the job there simply was not any time. This was, he learned in Texas, common for public defenders. Most defendants did not meet with their lawyer before their trial date, and that meant the defense was at a disadvantage before the word ‘go’. Silas was good at his job but even he could not work miracles.

Still, he smiled with confidence he did not feel. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly. You’re in good hands.”

* * *

The golden flower was a modern marvel, world-famous for the tea brewed from its petals. A single teabag provided the same energizing effect as a cup of coffee, without the crash and with no risk of overdose. And it worked fast, the effects being felt before you could even set your drink down. The flower only grew in a small area of New England; all attempts to germinate it outside of a 50 mile range of Mt. Ebott failed. The insatiable demand combined with the strictly limited supply gave the area immediately around Mt. Ebott, most especially the nearby village of Weymouth, a brand new and unchallenged industry. Technically the flowers were a protected species, but those with money could usually find enough congressman willing to grant a waiver.

So factories sprang up, and workers came where there was work to be had. Chad Nelson had still been very young at the time this all happened, but he distinctly remembered people talking about how the factories were bringing in “the wrong sort”, how the “traditional” population of Weymouth was getting pushed out, and other such hand-wringing. Now that he was older Chad did not mind what were euphemistically called “unskilled workers”. He had been working alongside these people for eight months now and considered them his friends even if most of them could speak barely any English. They were a little odd, they kept to themselves and preferred music and conversation in their own language, but they were not stupid or lazy as the epithets launched at them declared. And besides, they were still human. What color someone’s skin was did not matter so much, not when Asgore’s paws were the size of Chad’s head.

He watched the dried leaves get shredded and fall through the sieve. He was supposed to sift the leaves by hand, not letting them bundle or clump up in any one spot, but his brain was working too fast and his hands stilled. They had called it “monster food”. It looked and tasted like any other food, but the moment it was in the mouth it disintegrated into an effervescent rush like golden flower tea did. Did that mean the tea was actually a type of monster food? The tea may have been FDA approved, but he was pretty sure the government was ignorant about magic. There was no telling what effect magic could have on a human body in fifteen, or twenty, or fifty years. What was it people were putting into their bodies, paying top dollar for the privilege?

A hand finger snapped inches from his face, returning him to the present. He looked around and saw his supervisor with one hand on her hip and head cocked to the side. “Workin’ hard? Looks more like you’re hardly working.”

Chad Nelson blinked twice. “S-sorry,” he grunted, smacking himself in the head with the heel of his palm. “Had kind of a rough weekend.” She grinned widely, prompting Chad to correct, “Not like that.”

“Really? That’s a shame. You can make up for it next weekend, but if you’re here you’re working. Anything from outside, leave it there.” She smiled as she pointed at him. “Remember, this is employment not enjoyment!”

As if he could forget. “Yeah, I got you.”

* * *

The job of a diplomat was not so different from the life of a king, Asgore mused, except the former did not get nearly as much respect or free time. He was beginning to worry about the state of his garden and anxious about when he would have a chance to cultivate it, but he would have to leave that in the hands of his servants. His present work was far too delicate to leave to anyone else, even someone as passionate as Papyrus.

“I can’t believe I’m working next to Mr. Dreemurr!” the skeleton said with an ear-to-ear grin. The two of them were walking down a hallway on their way to meet with the mayor of Weymouth. This was the next step in monster integration, getting the approval and commitment of the local government to help them. Despite how important this meeting was Papyrus did not seem at all nervous. “Taking on the ambassadorship was the perfect career move for me! Why, I bet after only a short time, I’ll be a shoe-in for the Royal Guard! Um… you are planning to reinstate the Royal Guard in the future, yes?”

“I believe I would call it something else, to more clearly delineate a change in its mission. But yes, we will have need of a small retinue of bodyguards. I do not know how large we would need it to be, but I will certainly consider you for a place in it. Even if it would technically be a demotion from ambassador.”

Papyrus' brow furrowed in clear disgust. “If it won’t be called the Royal Guard then I’m not interested!” Well, that settled that then.

The door at the end of the hallway opened to a well-furnished office. A collection of chairs and a couch facing each other in a circle dominated the middle of the room. Behind this was an oak desk and a picture window serving as its backdrop. A woman was seated at the desk writing something when “King Asgore Dreemurr and Ambassador Papyrus, of the monsters of Mt. Ebott” were introduced. She stood up and walked around the desk to greet them. “Well,” the woman said with a nervous laugh as she craned her neck upwards. “Reginald sure didn’t exaggerate. But hi! I’m Wilma Cole, the mayor of our fine city of Weymouth. Welcome!” She was shorter than any other adult humans Asgore had met so far, Susan excepted, and a good deal more plump. Her skin was a deep, rich brown which reminded Asgore of fresh fertile soil. Her handshake was confident and firm, even if her hands were far too small to get a firm grip on Asgore’s paws. She locked eyes with her staff and reminded them, “This is national security stuff, you two! Remember, no leaks to the press!” She returned her attention to Asgore and assured him, “These are my top people, everyone in this room I’d trust to secrecy. I know how hard you’ve been working to make your formal introduction cordial, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that. To tell the truth I wasn’t happy about you going over my head to talk to Governor Patrick, but Mr. Pembrooke told me that was his idea. How were you folks to know the etiquette of the chain of command?” She sat down on a chair and invited the monsters to sit. Papyrus fit awkwardly into a rocking chair, while the only spot which could accept Asgore’s girth was the couch. “Now, this may be a little more informal than you may have expected. We’re not deciding anything today, I still need some time to come to grips with all this. Tell us about yourselves! What are you, where did you come from?”

“If I may be allowed to explain,” Papyrus began. “We are monsters! We have lived underneath Mt. Ebott for centuries, sealed there by a magic spell!”

“Okay, okay, magic. Normally I’d be telling you to get outta town, but right now if you told me you came from Honna-Lee I’d buy it. So you’ve got magic! Wow! What else you got?”

Things continued in this vein for some time. Asgore and Papyrus took turns at explaining some facet of monster existence: their history, souls, magic, the barrier. At some point in the conversation she started to lean forward, elbows on her knees and neck extended to drink up every word. Her eyes sparkled and her face brightened in barely-suppressed glee. “This is all so fascinating! Monsters, ancient wars, magic! You really know how to make people feel like kids again! You know, when I was in college and that tea made everyone notice our little home village I was sure nothing so big would ever happen here again. I want to go up to twenty year old me and tell her, ‘Honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!’ Ha ha ha! Alright. So you had this barrier that kept you from getting out before. So where’d it go? How’d you bust out?”

Papyrus and Asgore shared a look. Asgore remembered Silas’ warning well: they would not be able to hide what happened. He had a plan, and it sounded good, but it was up to them to put it into practice. “Well,” Asgore began. “This part of our story is… less enchanting than the previous topics. All I ask is that you let us finish before passing judgment.”

She started with bright and open enthusiasm, but leaned back in her seat when he started talking about a fallen human. Her eyes watered but she kept herself from crying. When he spoke of the mechanics of the barrier and would souls could be absorbed her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. Then he spoke slowly and haltingly of his decree, and she could finally take no more and jumped to her feet. “Are you trying to tell me, you thought you could buy your freedom with human lives and waltz into my office to call for a truce?!”

“No, no!” Papyrus insisted. “Such was not our aim at all! Well, we would like for things to be peaceful between us but we never wanted anyone to die!”

She pointed a shaking finger at Asgore. “This man _just said…_!”

“And at that moment, with my child’s dust on my hands, I meant it. But time passes, anger fades. And when another child fell and was brought before me, I chose to go back on my word. I put the child in protective custody. I suspected there were some monsters who would not accept my change of heart. I… underestimated their resolve. The child was killed against my wishes. The murderer was never found.”

“Mmmm- _hm_.” She leaned back, arms crossed again. “That works out well for you, don’t it? You get your soul and your hands stay clean. Lucky lucky. And lemme guess, you got lucky six more times?”

He caught the intended accusation but could not in truth dismiss it entirely. “Three. The sixth human was killed in self-defense. We have video footage of the incident. The seventh killed himself. The eighth survived and was delivered home safely.”

The mayor’s eyes went wide. “… Frisk Holder. The missing kid.”

“We were trying to keep their name out of this. I believe it would be difficult for them if they were commonly known as the child who brought the monsters, and they have suffered enough.”

“First smart thing you’ve said. And the others? They were all kids too?” Asgore’s silence was all the answer she needed. “You can’t expect me to be okay with dead kids. You can’t expect _anyone_ to be okay with dead kids.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned. When she dropped them her eyes had rolled up to stare at the ceiling. “I’m… going to call it for today. You’ve dumped an awful lot of garbage on my lap and it’s going to take a while to get the smell out. We have to consider our next steps very carefully. Where are you staying? How can I reach you?”

Asgore answered, “We are staying with a human in the city. They do not want the address revealed but they are willing to speak with you privately. You do not need to worry about us escaping; it is not as though we can move without being noticed.”

Papyrus tore out one of the pages of his notebook and held it out. “We can, however, be reached by telephone! Here’s the number, feel free to call anytime!”

Wilma snatched the paper out of his hand with a huff. “Thank you. I’ll call when I’ve had some time to discuss the situation with a few of my confidantes.” She glowered at Asgore one more time. “Oh, and don’t leave the area. There’s a good chance this will turn into a criminal investigation. If it does you’d better come quietly.”

“If it comes to that, I have every intention of throwing myself on your mercy.”

“Oh yeah? Well don’t expect much of it.” She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, and Asgore took the hint. He thanked her for her time and beat a hasty retreat.

“That… wasn’t what I expected. S-Still! I think it’s an important first step! It was just the shock of it all. Mrs. Cole will come around, I’m sure!” It was clear from his voice that his optimism was feigned. Asgore had little reason to hope for better.

* * *

“H-How is it everyone?” Undyne said with a too-wide grin as everyone dug into the first meal she prepared on the surface. “I tried to put Toriel’s lessons into practice, so I’m a little nervous about this.”

From his place on the couch Papyrus said, “I think it’s wonderful! It might be the best thing you’ve ever cooked, Undyne! I can only hope I can reach such culinary heights!”

“It is a little burnt,” Toriel said as she examined a chunk of blackened pepper with a critical eye. She tossed it into her mouth and bit down with a loud crunch. After swallowing she amended, “But not hideously so. It is not bad for a first attempt. But it shows a lack of control with fire magic… you have gotten too used to using a stove, I imagine.” The others at the table agreed.

“Ugh, got it in one,” Undyne scratched the back of her head. “But I ain’t giving up yet! Next time it’ll be even better! So, how did your first day of school go kid?”

Frisk stirred their noodles with their left hand while propping their cheek with their fist, right elbow on the table. Things had not improved after the first worksheet. Mr. Moulton knew a little bit of science and math, so he actually tried to teach those. But Frisk had to pretend they spaced out during Reading so they would not get called on to read aloud. Recess should have been fun but it was excruciating; the other kids had already formed up into their little groups and were untrusting of any new kid that came up. It was a familiar story for them by now. They saw all the signs, all the same things were happening over again that would lead to Toriel and Silas throwing them out, but they could not see a way to stop it.

Frisk shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.”

Toriel put a hand to her chest. That reaction… it was just like what Chara used to do when they were bothered but did not want to discuss why and thought they were better at concealing their emotions than they were. She recovered and asked, “A-and Silas, you started your job today, did you not? How was it?”

Silas gulped down a glass of water and touched his fingers against a napkin, before thinking better of it and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The self-defense client was the highlight of their day. After that were defendants who accused him of incompetent counsel before even getting to the plea, two people who didn’t show up and had bench warrants issued for them, another assault case where the client had pushed hard for a “he needed killin’” defense, and tomorrow was looking no less busy or less stressful.

Silas squinted his eyes in an approximation of a smile. “Fine.”

Undyne grimaced. “What about… that meeting you two had? You got good news for us?”

Papyrus hemmed and hawed with a litany of “Um, well, you see, that’s the thing…”

The king gave a wan smile and answered for him, “As I believe humans say, it went ‘fine’.”

All of them sighed at once. Gloom fell like a curtain over everyone at the table. At precisely that moment the home telephone rang. Silas rolled his eyes and stood up from the table. “Always during dinner. This better not be a telemarketer, that would be the perfect capper to end my day.” He motioned for quiet and picked up the phone. “Pembrooke residence.”

“Hello!” came a cheery voice from the other end of the phone. It was an aged voice, though the high level of energy masked how old it was. “My name is Beatrice, Beatrice Lincoln. Have I reached the home where the monsters are staying?”

Beatrice? He knew they would have to speak with her eventually, she owned the land around Mt. Ebott the monsters would need to build homes on the surface, but why was she reaching out to him? And how did she know to find the monsters here? “Ma’am, I’m not sure-”

“Please don’t insult my intelligence,” Beatrice said without losing her sing-song tone. “The monsters gave this phone number to the mayor, and she gave it to me. I was a big contributor to her political campaign so she does me favors from time to time. Now, can you put King Asgore Dreemurr on the line? I happen to be the legal guardian of Lilly Randolph, a young girl who went missing almost thirty years ago. And if you don’t mind I would dearly, _dearly_ love to speak to the man who murdered my niece.”

 


	11. A Reckoning Comes Due

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month! Haven't managed that in a while. This one's a little shorter than my recent chapters have been, but honestly I think shorter chapters more frequently might work better than longer ones that take months to finish.

_Avery Campton only disappeared a few years ago, so there’s a lot more readily available information about him despite his family being sort of reclusive. His parents bought a small plot of land up in the mountains and were trying to live “off the grid”, sort of like what happened with you in the Ruins I think? I think that's how that idiom is used. The Camptons were distrustful of the government and tried to raise Avery to be self-sufficient, teaching him how to fish and farm and hunt. They taught him not to trust and to always take care of yourself, even if it meant hurting other people. One night Avery was unable to sleep and heard someone trying to break in through the window. He must have thought it was a burglar or home invader and shot him with a human weapon called a “gun”. Avery killed the man trying to come into the house. Only, when he turned the lights on he realized the man who was trying to come in through the window was his own father. It later came out that he was meeting another woman in secret. On that night he accidentally locked himself out and tried to sneak back in. But Avery didn’t know and never learned any of that; he ran away and was never heard from again. His mother still lives in the area and insists she hasn't given up hope of seeing him again._

_Avery killed two monsters while he was in the underground: we know one of them was Doge, the Captain of the Royal Guard at the time. We aren’t sure who the other was, not 100%, but Quilt’s widow Karin disappeared around the same time. The going theory is that Karin blamed all humans for Quilt’s death during Rebecca’s massacre and sought out Avery in revenge. So both of his monster kills were in self-defense. But still, it must have eaten him alive… Sans said Avery died by his own hand and I believe him. Sans’ LOVE is still 1, after all. The only thing Sans ever said about the incident is that Avery had three kills and a LOVE of 6 by the time he reached the hall, which checks out with what I gathered. We’d been going nuts trying to figure out who his third kill was, but it turns out it was his first kill after all. Ugh, I’m not trying to make light of this… it’s horrible for a child to carry guilt like that around._

_Um… I know this isn’t the right place to talk about this, but Sans changed after that. He stopped all his personal projects, he stopped coming by the lab, he stopped trying to do anything. Personally I thought he was going to Fall Down any moment; he was that bad off. He moved out to Snowdin with his brother and hung up his labcoat for good. What really happened there? And why did he seem to just… lose all hope afterward? He never talked about it with me. I get the feeling you got to be pretty close to him, somehow… did he ever talk about it with you? I mean, if it was told to you in confidence I’ll respect that! But… well, he was my colleague and friend. I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do for him._

* * *

Silas became very quiet for a while after picking up the phone. From the table Asgore could hear someone speaking on the other end but not what they were saying. Silas let them talk without interruption, his eyes unfocused and staring at an uncertain point in the distance. Finally the voice on the other end stopped speaking. Silas said slowly, “One moment. I will get him on the line.” He covered the receiver with his hand and called, “Asgore, it’s for you. The woman on the line is Beatrice Lincoln, the woman who owns the land around Mt. Ebott. Also… she’s the legal guardian of one of the kids who died.” Puzzled, Asgore stood from his kneeling position and took the phone, his head ducked low to avoid scraping the ceiling with his horns. Silas tried to look Asgore in the face but found he was unable to.

Asgore screwed up his courage. He had hoped this day would not come so soon but there was no avoiding it. He tried to bring the phone up to his face only to realize the phone was too small compared to his head; if he held the receiver to his mouth he would not be able to hear, and if he held the phone to his ear his mouth was still a fair distance from the phone. He resolved to put it by his ear and see if Beatrice complained about him being too quiet. “Hello?”

“Ah, am I finally speaking to King Asgore Dreemurr? I’m Beatrice Lincoln, you killed my niece. The pleasure, I’m sure, is all yours.” The voice on the other end was pleasantly cordial, in stark contrast to what she was actually saying.

Asgore’s breath caught in his throat. “Ah, um. I am… immeasurably sorry for what happened. But I did not-”

“Semantics,” came a disinterested reply. “You may not have killed her with your own hands, but you gave the order, yes? Someone else followed it? You can protest innocence all you like, it hardly matters at this point. More importantly, I’m not the only one you owe closure to. Six children are dead. Lilly Randolph, Wendell Sunapee, Tyrone Eaton, Skye Harris, Rebecca Troy, and Avery Campton. They left families behind: mothers, fathers, sisters, cousins. Oh! In a startling coincidence, would you believe their families are all going to be at my mansion tomorrow?”

“A… All of them?” Asgore felt panic freeze his face into a stiff mask. Even he could not miss the intended threat; the coincidence was too impossible.

Beatrice chuckled with all the friendliness of a spider. “Yes, the closest relatives of every child. I have been hosting gatherings every year or so of the ones left behind. A support group, I suppose you could say. Only this year, oh, this year will be one to remember. I cordially invite you to attend, your majesty, as the guest of honor.”

Her intent was clear. The direction of this conversation was dangerous. Should he feign ignorance? No, that would only anger her. Attempt to deflect, then. Use Silas’ plan. “Indeed. I, too have lost children-”

Beatrice ruthlessly cut him off, “Hm, yes, Asriel and Chara. About that. I’ve done a little study of my own, and you know what? No child went missing around Mt. Ebott in the year you claim. I even sent someone digging into the census records, and no child of that name was born anywhere near here in the state at the time they would have been born. As far as the state of New Hampshire is concerned there is no such person as Chara.” She allowed a moment for her words to sink in. “Now, I’m not going to accuse you of inventing this person to garner sympathy. Neither would I dream of making light of the death of your son Asriel, or ‘the White Beast’ as we call him around here. But there is clearly something you either don’t know or are intentionally concealing, and if I may offer a tip? Unless you are able to explain exactly what happened, in full, don’t expect any of us to be swayed by your sob story. Shall we expect you tomorrow, King Dreemurr?”

“O-Oh.” And just like that his defense blew apart. She had planned for his counterattack and defeated it with one blow. What else could he do? “In that case, I will meet with you all tomorrow. I am certain we can have a productive dialog.”

“I am quite sure of that as well. Do you have a way to get here or shall I send someone to pick you up?”

“We have a driver that should suffice. I look forward to meeting with all of you.”

This was the first thing Asgore had said that gave the woman on the other end pause. “You shouldn’t, King Dreemurr.” The line went dead with a beep.

Asgore weighed the phone in his hand before returning it to the cradle. When he turned everyone was looking at him, waiting for a sign of how it went. “Let me guess,” Silas said with a pained face. “She wants you to come to a private meeting with the surviving family members of the other children, right?” Asgore nodded. “In other words, you’ll be in a room with people you have greatly wronged, who hate your guts, with the full knowledge that no one on the surface will miss you if do not return from it. This is… not _literally_ the worst scenario, but it’s very, very close. I had intended to play out your defense in the arena of public opinion, but instead your harshest critics will get to have the first crack at you before we can even try to get your side of the story out.” He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed deeply. He did not try to continue for several seconds as he let the hopelessness of the situation sink in. “… My plan failed,” he said at last. “I’m sorry. Now that it’s come to this, we have to go fully defensive. You can’t go to that meeting.”

Asgore refused. “I must go.”

The human pointed a finger at the monster king. “You _cannot_. Your people need you to lead them. If you go into that room, Asgore, you _will_ die. _”_

“If I do not I have no right to lead them. Besides, if I don’t what is stopping them from revealing our existence and my crimes to the world at once? Wasn't that the exact scenario you sought to avoid?”

Silas took a breath and admitted, “Yes, it was. Damn it, there has to be something! Something I missed, some way to-”

“You’ve done enough,” Asgore said with a smile. “You’ve done more than we had any right to expect. If this is the way it must be, I will accept the consequences of my own actions. You said it yourself, your plan failed. Now we do it my way. You may call me a poor king if you like, but never say I did not meet my end like one.”

A chair clattered in the dining room. When they looked there Toriel was standing, her chair knocked over on the ground beside her, her face stricken with grief. “Asgore, no.”

He met her gaze unflinchingly. “You can’t talk me out of this. Don’t try.”

“I…” Toriel averted her eyes first, shrinking into herself. She found some hidden reserve of strength and stood straight, even as it made her horns knock some dust from the ceiling plaster loose. “Then take me with you.”

“Absolutely not. Papyrus is the ambassador, he will accompany me there. You have no need to worry, he is quite good.” While he would ordinarily soak up the praise, instead Papyrus appeared to be attempting to burrow between the couch cushions to avoid this conversation.

Toriel took a breath to steady herself. “Papyrus is… very good indeed. But I must insist. However much we disagreed, at the very least you have been a king these past thirty years. I have not been a queen at all. I have read the old texts, I know the ancient customs. The Kingdom of Monsters cannot be without a ruler for a single day. Should they kill you, I… I will take up my old role. I will lead in your stead. To do that I must see what we are facing with my own eyes. I must see how wide the gap of hatred has grown between humans and monsters. I may no longer be your wife, but I will not let you face this alone.”

Asgore closed his eyes, and for a moment seemed like he would still insist on his way. He was king, it was his right, and he had been speaking like royalty since he got off the phone. “… If it comes to it, I will take all the blame. Do not hesitate to join them against me. You must survive. Of all of us, you are the most indispensable. Others can lead our people, but Frisk needs you and you alone.”

Toriel closed her eyes, thinking of her newest child. Her ninth, including Asriel and Chara. The only one she still had a chance to save. She hated to agree with Asgore on anything, but this time he had the right of it. She could not abandon this child. “As you wish.”

A loud bang resounded throughout the room. Undyne had smashed her fist into the counter, leaving a sizable crater in the formica. The corners of her lips were drawn back in a snarl. “What, we're all just going to accept this?! Hell no!”

“I understand your temper,” Toriel admonished as she put her hands over Frisk’s ears. “But please watch your language.”

“It’s okay Toriel,” they said around a mouthful of bell pepper. “I already know all the dirty words.”

“Even still.”

Undyne slammed her fist into the counter again, causing the cracks to deepen. “Can we focus here? Asgore, you don’t have to accept all the blame the humans want to throw on you. It’s not like they’re any better, they killed the prince for no reason! And what about the blue soul, huh? She killed a whole ton of monsters and we’re just supposed to ignore that?!”

“Four of their children were killed before the blue soul even fell into the Underground,” Asgore countered. “Her actions don't excuse the other five deaths, only one of whom killed any monsters at all and even then only to protect himself. There is no proof any of these families were involved in Asriel’s death… how can his murder wash away the blood of six children who had nothing to do with it? No, we cannot make accusations back at these humans. Their grief is real, their anger legitimate. Toriel and I can handle the diplomacy. If they wish to strike me down, whether there is two or three of us will make no difference.” Left unsaid was the rebuke: ‘Your inability to control your temper will only make things worse.’ Asgore was, of course, much too polite in his folksy way to say it aloud, but it was still understood by everyone there.

Undyne lowered her head, shoulders visibly shaking. “Are you telling me… I have to stand here and do nothing while my king goes into danger…?”

Asgore's expression softened. Undyne, the daughter he never had. So full of spirit and spunk. He always knew she would die for him, and the thought of him protecting her struck at her very soul. He clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing it with a fraction of his strength. “Power and fury, however righteous, will not win this fight. I will do my best to use the power of words, not the force of arms, to save my life. Have faith in me, as I’ve had faith in you. Remain here and wait for my safe return.”

Undyne turned away, her good eye watering. She was shaking so badly one would think she might fall to pieces. Then her shuddering stopped. She fell down to one knee and bowed her head low. “So let it be done.”

During the commotion Alphys had shuffled back to the computer. One would have been inclined to believe she had extricated herself from the awkward discussion before it became too heated. This assumption would have been wrong, however: Alphys waddled back into the fray with tiny steps and her head down to hand a thick ream of paper over to Toriel. “I-it doesn’t have the section on Frisk yet, but… uh, here’s the report on the other children. I have a, um, pretty high confidence in it. At the very least, you’ll know the stories of the kids you’re dealing with.”

Toriel eyed the report before accepting it graciously. “Thank you. This will prove invaluable. Silas, I will take your recliner to read this. Everyone else, we may wish to finish early for the night; all of us have a long day tomorrow.” Her proposal met no objections.

* * *

Frisk changed into their pajamas and crawled into bed, letting a distracted Toriel kiss them goodnight. As soon as they heard her go downstairs they turned to their ghostly companion. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Chara shook their head, their eyes glassy. “You didn’t hear her, that woman Beatrice, on the phone. She’s _evil_. She’s going to chew up Asgore and spit him out. He can’t win against her. You’re sure you can’t Load? If you try really, really hard maybe you can go back and try again.” Frisk shook their head sadly. Chara could only laugh bitterly and turned their face away from Frisk. “Maybe it wouldn’t help anyway. This was going to happen no matter what. Two kids can’t hold back the tide.” Drops of something black fell from Chara’s face.

Frisk put their head on their pillow, clutching the corner of it tightly. Silas had said once that if Asgore died the rest of the monsters would follow suit. It now seemed almost certain Asgore would die tomorrow regardless of what Frisk tried to do. “Chara? Why’d we lose?”

Chara took a moment to reply. “Humans,” they said. The word was thick and heavy with malice, dripping like the tar coming out of Chara’s eyes. “This human, specifically.”

Frisk’s next line came automatically: “It’s not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t killed myself, Asgore never would have made that decree, those other kids wouldn’t have died, and the monsters wouldn’t be in this mess. All I wanted was to give them a bright future. It took thirty one years for it all to play out, and the final result is that I took it away. Monsters have no future.”

“That’s not true,” Frisk said, but Chara was not listening. They huddled into a ball and giggled, a high and shrill laugh. “Please, Chara, don’t believe that. If… if you go away, if you get sad, I can’t bring you back. So you can’t, okay?” An idea came to them. Possibly a long shot, but they had to try. “You kept saying, what I did for you with the barrier wasn’t a fair trade for the help you gave me. So… to make it even, you have to stay here. You can’t go away. Please… don’t leave me alone.” Chara continued laughing as though Frisk had not said anything. Every second of it was torture: not only was it grating on the ears, but Frisk could feel every bit of sorrow and self-recrimination it was filled with. Their friend, someone they loved very deeply, was in such intense pain and they could do nothing about it. It made them feel small and useless, like they were somehow letting everyone but most especially Chara down.

It was several minutes before the laughter finally settled. A puddle of sludge had formed underneath Chara, runover from whatever leaked from their eyes in place of tears. Chara’s wavering form sniffled and giggled every once in a while, but it appeared they did not have the energy for anything more.

Then, just before sleep took them, Frisk could have sworn they heard a tiny voice say: “… Your terms are accepted. So long as there’s any hope at all, I won’t disappear. Payment for services rendered.”

* * *

Toriel stayed up well into the night to read the report Alphys provided to her, bitter tears welling in her eyes. To know that tragedy had struck children not once, but seven times (eight, for why else would Frisk climb a mountain no one returns from)? It was too much to bear. The world of humanity was too cruel. Each story was worse and more heartbreaking than the last. Lilly had stayed only a few days, cryptically saying she had to return “since everything should be taken care of by now”. Marijane, she would only ever be Marijane to her, was a wonderful daughter. Her soul was blue when she first fell down, but through the years under Toriel’s paw she became the most like a surrogate daughter of all the children, eventually even adopting her green soul. But when she got old enough to learn her body would start changing she despaired; she had to return to the human world to find a way to stop it and keep a body that matched her spirit. She had been the hardest to say goodbye to. Tyrone never gave her a chance, passing through on his quest to who-knew-where. She always wondered what his story was, and why Marijane seemed to dislike him so much. Skye was a boisterous young lad, very energetic and a bit of a roughhouser. She was disappointed but not surprised he left a trail of battered but very much alive monsters on his way to the capital. But Rebecca became a murderer? Not Rebecca, sweet little Rebecca, she could not have done those things. She could not have murdered innocent people including children. Was she not a blue soul, full of Integrity? Even after reading it she could not believe it. And Avery… such a haunted boy. She could tell there was a darkness in his soul the moment she saw him: she clearly remembered thinking, ‘How awful, for a child so young to have gained LOVE. If even a child cannot maintain their innocence, how wonderful could the surface be?’ Monsters could tell, vaguely, when someone had gained LOVE. It would take a machine or someone very sensitive to be able to tell exactly what their LOVE was, let alone the EXP at the heart of it, but ‘a little, some, a lot’ was not outside the capabilities of most monsters.

At some point in her reading she had fallen asleep, only realizing it when something heavy fell across her shoulders and startled her awake. “Miss Ex-Majesty,” Papyrus said in an unusually quiet voice. He was leaning over her with a spare blanket in his hands. “I am sorry. I was only trying to make you more comfortable.”

Toriel blinked herself awake and took stock of her surroundings. The dimmer switch in the kitchen was being utilized well, the overhead light putting off a faint orange glow. The rest of the monsters were laid out across the floor of the living room, only visible by their silhouettes. Asgore slept by the front door, his large furry body serving as a draft stopper. Alphys was curled up in a ball, cuddling the computer tower for warmth while breathing in an irregular rhythm. Undyne was in a sitting position behind the television set facing the door; she had mentioned when staking out her spot that she could see outside from this angle but was not in the line of fire if anyone tried to bust through the window. Toriel had found it an odd set of criteria but she supposed that was Undyne’s way. Marty had taken the couch, putting a fitting sheet over himself instead of a regular one. He swore it felt cozier, but everyone including Silas thought him mad.

Toriel smiled. “It is fine, Papyrus. I have always been a light sleeper.” She took the offered blanket and draped it over the armrest. “But should you not be getting sleep as well?”

“I already told you I don’t sleep,” Papyrus waved off. “Oh, you don’t have to get up Miss Queen Toriel! Over the past few days I’ve come to realize other people do need sleep! I believe I owe my brother an apology when I see him again.”

“It is fine, I have too much going through my head to fall back asleep. Perhaps I shall make some-” Not tea not tea _not tea_ just because she was living under the same roof as Asgore again was no excuse to fall back into her old habits. “-some warm milk. But… I am curious. Why don’t you sleep?”

“Milk! An excellent choice, builds strong bones.” His eternal grin made it difficult to tell whether he was making a joke or not. “I used to have terrible bouts of sleep-walking. One time I ended up going all the way to the CORE! It was dangerous to go so far, especially since Hotland doesn’t have any guardrails. I decided I wouldn’t sleep anymore if it was going to be so perilous, so I don’t.”

Toriel giggled, hiding her mouth behind her paw. “Yes, I can certainly see what that would be a problem. Oh, please do not fret, I am only laughing because you are safe and sound. It would be no laughing matter if something terrible had happened to you.” Toriel doubted anyone could put off sleep just by wanting to, but she also did not think Papyrus was lying to her or trying to dodge the question. He really did not seem to know, prying deeper would prove fruitless. “So what do you do while everyone else rests?” She opened the fridge and took down a glass from the cupboard.

“Studying, mostly. In Snowdin I would learn advanced puzzle theory, with the occasional foray into quantum physics or jokes. Ah, don’t tell Sans about that! He would never let me hear the end of it! Erm, since arriving in the surface I’ve neglected those studies in favor of the politics of the human world. They are quite fascinating. For instance, did you know they have a council that writes all the laws? And that they only meet once a week, ostensibly to work out compromises but mostly to yell at each other?”

Toriel raised an eyebrow as she poured herself some milk. “That seems… inefficient.” Toriel held the glass of milk in her two paws, the barest hints of flame dancing around her claws. Milk had to be heated very slowly and carefully else it would burn easily.

“Oh, it is! When Asgore thought of a new rule he could write it into law in a few hours, while these guys take weeks to rename a post office! Of course, if Asgore wanted to raise the snowball tax there was nothing anyone could do about it. While here! Things take so long so everyone can contact their representative. In theory they are supposed to tell their congressman how they feel about things, how new laws will affect them, and what can be done to earn their trust and consolidate their continued support. In practice… I am seeing a lot of people send in threats to murder their representatives. Which is obviously wrong! Saying you’re going to kill someone when you aren’t is plainly lying, and that’s an attack on the trust the whole system needs to function! It makes little sense, but sense of it I must make to fulfill my role as ambassador. Don’t get me wrong, I am eminently up to the task! Only, even for someone as great as me, it will take quite some doing.”

Toriel doused her flames and took a sip of her milk. She stared intently into the glass as the warmth flowed into her body. “Humans… are as intimately familiar with death as any of us. I wonder how they can talk about killing so openly and so freely. Silas believes Asgore will die tomorrow. Those parents hold him responsible for the children’s deaths, and they will kill him for it. He seemed to think it a certainty. It is strange, for them to immediately think of killing someone who has wronged them, is it not?”

Papyrus’ voice softened and he leaned forward sympathetically. “You still care for him.”

“I do not wish him dead,” Toriel clarified. She was unable to look Papyrus in the eye, however; her gaze drifted to the drawn blinds, attempting to see through them and to moonlight through sheer force of will. “We have a long history. From before I was old enough to know what love was my future had been decided: ‘You are a Boss Monster, so when you are ready you will marry the King.’ He never once came to visit me in my youth. I never saw him unless it was at a great distance during an announcement to the whole kingdom. I never knew him except as the distant concept of a man I would one day hand my entire future over to. He later told me he was nervous about the large difference in our ages and did not want to see me for the first time until I was grown. But there was no rush to meet him, no set time I was to give him my hand. Boss Monsters are nearly immortal, after all, and there was little danger anywhere in the Kingdom. So I made him wait while I lived a life of freedom. I was not allowed to have children, but other than that there is nothing the Underground would deny a future ruler. Hee hee, it may surprise you to know I was quite the ‘wild one’ before I became a Queen!

“I was an adult for well over a century before I deigned to marry him. At first I thought he was a useless fool, someone who sacrificed his own goals on the altar of his likability. But… I gradually came to realize how he was perceived by the populace was not his goal, merely a byproduct of his actual intent. He cared for all his subjects in a deep and personal way. He celebrated their joys, shared in their sorrows, and thought of every monster as part of his family. His kindness was not a cover for any nefarious activity, nor was it an attempt to paper over his own loneliness by being well liked. He simply… loved everyone. Honestly, simply, with no guile. I grew to admire that about him, and eventually to love him.

“Then he broke my trust. He used his grief as an excuse to declare war. He showed none of his kindness or patience then. It was as though I never really knew him. A part of me is still angry at him for that. But I cannot erase what we have been, and I cannot deny he made me very happy, for a time.”

She laughed softly to herself. “Forgive me. I do not know why I am telling you all this.”

“It’s because you want to be talking to Sans, but Sans isn’t here.” It was not said with any reproach or resentment, merely a statement of fact.

She considered that and found herself nodding. “You are… probably right about that. That’s very insightful, Papyrus.”

“But of course! I have been practicing my listening skills, and soon they will be as good as my talking skills. Then. Then! I shall truly be a loquacious legend, a verbalizing force to be feared!” Toriel chuckled again, waiting until she was done before finishing off her milk. Papyrus tapped his phalanges on the counter, staring at the dent Undyne had left in it earlier that night. His tone dropped and became more serious, even pleading. “Miss Toriel? You knew Sans when he was younger, yes?”

Toriel rinsed out her glass in the sink. “I knew of him. His father Segoe worked in the lab, and he was friends with my children… well, more with Chara than with Asriel. I saw him on occasion but I did not know him well then. I certainly did not recognize him until he told me his name.”

“What about me? Did you ever meet baby me, or have any stories about me?”

Toriel shook her head. “I apologize… you must have been born after I left. I did not know Segoe had another child, or even that he took another lover after the death of his husband.”

Papyrus sighed, his eyesockets becoming droopy. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

“Is something wrong?”

His eyesockets snapped back to normal. “No, not at all! It’s… nothing, really. How is the milk? Is it working?”

Toriel suppressed a yawn. “Quite well indeed, thank you for listening to this old woman ramble. I will try to get a little bit more sleep. You know, your brother spoke so highly of you, Papyrus. I was sure he was exaggerating, but after meeting with you I see you really are as great as he said.”

“It was no trouble at all! It helps break up the monotony of research a bit. Please, feel free to sample my goods and services anytime!”

Toriel nodded. “Good night, Papyrus.” She carefully stepped her way back to the recliner and pulled the blanket over herself. From how comfortably she settled in and how easily she fell back asleep it was clear she did not hear the sniffles coming from where Asgore lay, nor did she notice the shimmer of moonlight on Undyne’s open eye.

* * *

“Goodness!” Toriel said as the SUV approached Beatrice’s mansion. And it really was a mansion; built on a hillside overlooking Weymouth there were few places in the city where it could not be seen. Three stories tall and wider than a school building, it could have comfortably housed several families inside. Did one woman really live in a place like that all by herself?

Asgore was also impressed. “I lived in a cozy little cottage; well, cozy for me. The governor, Silas' father, the mayor, Beatrice, it seems everyone we visit has such grand houses. Does everyone live so fine on the surface?”

“Only the people who actually matter,” Marty said as he put the car into Park. “I’ll be waiting out here. If things go bad don’t expect me to rush in, you've got to get out here. I’m not much as cavalry but I bet I can make a mean getaway driver.”

“Hopefully it will not come to that,” Asgore said. “But we thank you for whatever assistance you can provide.”

“Haven’t done much so far, so give me the chance to be useful and I’ll do it.” Marty paused, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. “Hey, I’m not gonna jinx this by saying ‘goodbye’ or nothing, but… even with everything, I think you’re a pretty cool guy Mister D. Do your best in there.” Suddenly he blinked and his gaze shot up toward the house with a start.

Toriel turned to look in the same direction but nothing immediately suspicious came to her attention. “Is something wrong?”

“Nuthin’,” Marty said, rubbing at his eye. “Nothing. Thought I saw a kid at the window for a second. Maybe the old bat has a grandchild or something. Or I’m just seeing things. Anyway, uh, good luck.”

Toriel and Asgore both nodded as Marty pulled out his phone to waste time while he waited for them. There was a bald man with sunglasses and a dark suit waiting for them at the front door. He did not so much as flinch at the appearance of the two Boss Monsters, possibly the first time a human did not react in fear at Asgore’s size. The man nodded and asked, “King Asgore Dreemurr? They’re waiting for you inside. If you’ll follow me…”

The interior of Beatrice’s mansion was just as opulent as its outside. Fine rugs stretched across every hallway, every surface had been meticulously polished, and not a trace of dust could be found anywhere. Toriel marveled at some of the paintings on display, inwardly thinking this house seemed more like a museum than a place people actually lived in; Asgore noticed they were taking a circuitous route, going up one flight of stairs and going down half the length of the house before taking another set of stairs and doubling back. Was she trying to intimidate them by showing off her house? Or was this some form of petty revenge?

Finally the man opened a door and called without entering, “Miss Beatrice, the King of the Monsters Asgore Dreemurr and his guest have arrived.” He then gestured the two of them inside.

The room appeared to be a study, bookshelves lining the side and back walls. A sizable space had been cleared out to make room for a fine but unadorned mahogany throne sized for Asgore’s ample dimensions. Several men and woman sat in a rough semi-circle facing the throne on relatively modest chairs. At the center of them all, sitting behind an oak desk, was an old woman with thinning white hair tied in a single bun. Time had left its mark on her cracked lips and wrinkled brow, but her eyes continued to shine with the power and vitality of someone much younger. Her face was gaunt but a tiny smile graced it. She would have appeared matronly were it not for the palpable aura of danger around her. Toriel needed none of Doctor Gaster’s equipment to know what it was: LOVE, low but not 1. This woman had killed before. The old woman did not rise to offer a handshake but greeted them warmly, “Ah, I assume you are King Asgore Dreemurr. Beatrice Lincoln, we spoke on the phone.”

Asgore nodded. “I recognize your voice as well. Thank you for the invitation, it was quite generous of you. Despite, er, the circumstances.”

“ _Because of_ the circumstances. I have made many enemies and bested nearly all of them over the years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned to enjoy it’s the sight of a defeated rival swaying in the wind. But where are my manners? I should introduce you to the rest of our gathering.” She indicated the two men sitting together. “The Troy family, Michael and Isaac. Their daughter Rebecca vanished seven years ago.” They both nodded their heads, expressions carefully neutral. Next to them were a man and a woman, sitting near each other but more noticeably apart than the other couple, grief on their faces. They tried to smile but their eyes were too wet for it to carry over. “The Sunapee family. Their child fled into the neighborhood seventeen years ago.” On the opposite side of Beatrice’s desk was a young woman with dark brown skin, arms crossed and looking at them only out of the corner of her eye.“This is Shakira Eaton, sister of Tyrone Eaton. Her brother vanished fourteen years ago.” She made no movement to accompany the introduction, not a curtsy or wave or even perfunctory nod of the head. Other than the monsters she was clearly the person who least wanted to be here. “Next to her is Skye’s mother Penny. Her son took that ill-fated dare ten years ago.” Penny Harris was a rail-thin woman whose gaze was focused on her hands. She looked up only briefly and her lips pulled taut for a split second in lieu of a smile. “And-”

“Me?” said the last woman, dressed in a flannel shirt with sun-damaged wrinkles around her eyes and blonde hair turning platinum from over-exposure. “Ahm the mean-ass bitch who’s gonna shoot ya dead when the rest of ‘em are done pickin’ your bones. You killed my boy Avery two years ago.” She glared a million daggers at Asgore, each one tipped with acid. Despite her threat she did not have the feel of non-zero EXP that Beatrice had.

Beatrice gave a maternal sigh and continued as if the outburst never happened, “… and the widow Campton. As for me, my niece Lilly Randolph disappeared twenty four years ago. Now that we’ve all been introduced, Mr. Dreemurr, who is the… woman, by your side?”

Toriel stiffened. Could she honestly not tell, or was she slighting her in some way? “I am Toriel. Formerly the Queen, I resigned my position after-”

Beatrice raised a hand to stop her. “After what, you need not specify. If it is the event we think it is no explanation is necessary. If it is not it does you no good to correct our misunderstanding. But why are you here, if you have no official power?”

“… I knew each of your children, for a little or a long while. I tried to raise them and protect them as best I could. In a way, we are here today because I failed to do so. I believe the only right thing to do is tell you what I learned of them, cold comfort though it may be.”

Beatrice made a hand motion and nodded. “So one of you can tell us how they lived, and the other can tell us how they died. Very good, all very good.” The door shut behind them with the echoing thunk of a coffin lid. Beatrice indicated the large throne. “Have a seat, Mr. Dreemurr. Toriel, take the couch. We all have a lot to talk about, it could take quite a while. I would not want either of you to get… uncomfortable.” Toriel expected Beatrice’s smile to widen into a wolfish grin; that it did not made her somehow all the more unsettling.

 


	12. The Dead and the Living, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed the first anniversary of the story, but at least I managed this update in time for my birthday. How about next year I average better than 1 update a month?

“Sans! Sans! We found something big!”

“(Really, really big! You have to come right away!)”

Sans snapped himself awake, knocking himself on the side of the head. He had fallen asleep on his feet again. He tried taking a nap inside the coffin but it was not comfortable at all, so he had propped himself up in a corner of Asgore’s basement and let Dogamy and Dogaressa do their thing. Seemed it was time for him to supervise after all. “alright, what’s the scoop?”

“(We have to show you!)”

“We really can’t explain it! Come on! To the barrier room!” Without waiting for a response the Dogi bounded up the stairs.

Ugh, walking. He wasn’t about to put up with that. He changed his parameters so his current location was the former barrier room, and before he could blink he was there. It had been cleaned up a little since Susan and Undyne’s visit, new plaster filling the Undyne-shaped hole and crude wooden guardrails posted alongside the rough picture window overlooking the city. There was still a bit of debris and battle damage left over from whatever the kid did with the flower. The most obvious difference, though, was that a portion of the right wall had slid away, revealing an unlit metallic passageway a few feet wide and three meters tall. He peered into the gloom but no answers were forthcoming from here. What in the heck…?

As he wondered this the Dogi barged into the room. “Hey! How’d you beat us here?”

“knew a shortcut.” Sans thrust a thumb back at the new passageway. “how’d you guys miss this?”

Dogaressa’s eyebrows arched as she explained, “(How’d we find it, is what you should be asking. It looked like a normal wall, but we found strange smells that seemed to lead right to that part of the wall.)”

“It took a bit of doing, but we managed to find a spot where the wall was hollow! We combined our strength and forced the doors open with the power of our love! But also our axes. If we’re being honest, it was mostly our axes.” He held up his axe to show the sizable chip along the blade. The eye on the axe watered, a single tear forming at its corner.

Sans poked his head inside the passageway. As soon as he did emergency lights flickered on at the corners of the hall, noting where the walls were and bathing him in an eerie red glow. The passageway continued on for about forty feet before making a right turn. “you been down here yet?”

“No sir!”

“(It looked like whatever would be at the end would be above our pay grade. Do you think Dr. Alphys made this?)”

“nah, alph doesn’t have the motivation for something this elaborate. not to mention she never would have been able to sneak past asgore to install it all. come along, and keep your axes handy.” No, Sans already knew only one person would have been crazy enough to put a secret passage in the barrier room.

The hallway turned twice and opened into a large chamber dominated by a central pillar. The pillar had a series of screens along its circumference near the ceiling, tiled so that at least one monitor was visible no matter where one stood in the room. The pillar had open circuitry and a number of lights along its surface, and all around it a waist-high table had been erected. A thin layer of dust covered the table, save for a rectangle-shaped clean spot the size of standard 8 1/2 - 11 paper. Branching out from the main chamber were six rooms, the doors left open on two of them and the other four closed. Each room contained an empty circular glass tank large enough to hold a person, as long as they were not too big. Hoses and pipes snaked out of the top of each tank and connected to the ceiling, where they led to parts unknown. The rooms also had a full length mirror next to a coat hanger on the wall, and each coat hangar had a towel draped on it.

“(What… on earth…?)”

A sentiment Sans had to agree with. “somebody sure was busy here. then they weren’t for a while, but somebody poked around more recently. you said there was a strange smell?”

“Yeah. It smells like… science.”

“huh. and the trail led here?”

“(The trail _came from_ here. It leads outside. We might still be able to follow it, if we weren’t given strict orders by Cap- I mean, by Undyne not to leave the Underground. And, well, it’s a couple days old now.)” That was probably bad. A monster they didn’t know about on the outside could cause a scare nobody needed right now.

Dogamy looked around warily, sniffing the central pillar suspiciously. “Any idea what all this could be for?”

“beats me. i’ve never seen anything like thi-”

Wait a minute. He _had_ seen these tanks before. Not in person, no, but the designs for them were scribbled in the margins of… of something. A similar kind of tank, yes!, but much smaller, intended to hold and preserve a human soul. Dr. Gaster had shown the plans for the soul containers to him once, he remembered himself asking about these other bluprints, but Gaster blew him off. Just a doodle, he had signed. A thought experiment inspired by his work with the soul canisters. Something he could cobble together if he ever decided…

If he ever decided… he needed to…

“shit.” Sans bolted out of the room and down the hall, elbowing Dogamy out of the way. “Shit! We gotta get to Asgore, now!”

“Sans!”

“(What’s going on?)”

He barreled down the corridor, struggling for his legs to keep up with the rest of his body. He tried to turn when he reached the bend in the corridor but his foot slipped on something. Damn it, no! Not now! He braced himself against the wall with one hand and slid right down it, leaving a wet white streak on the wall where his palm touched. He hit the ground with less of a thud and more of a splat. Ooooooh, this was a bad one, he could actually feel his ribs flatten against the floor. That’s what he got for getting too excited all at once after holding it in for so long. He took deep ragged breaths and tried to fight against the urge to hold himself together. It was an instinctual reaction and understandable in the circumstances but it would only make things worse.

It did not take long for the Dogi to catch up to him. Dogamy knelt down and cradled Sans’ head in his hands, no hesitation, not caring that some of Sans’ skull was going to be in his fur now and would take forever to get out. “Sans, take a few deep breaths. Let it out. Just rest for now, whatever’s so important can wait.” Yeah, of course they would know how to handle a C3 attack, Undyne herself had it and she was a lot less careful about managing her condition. But if they knew all that, couldn’t they guess how important it was for Sans to let his control slip?

“Gotta get to them,” he forced through his throat. No, let it go, let the tension out. Give the stress up. He felt his bones get more solid, the fire in his chest subsided. His eye was glowing, he could tell from the soft cyan and yellow reflections off the metal walls of the corridor, but he would worry about the questions that would provoke later. “they have to know.”

“We can’t descend the mountain, Sans! Even if we could, we have no idea where the King and the former Captain are now! We’d never reach them safely.”

“(What is so important?)”

Sans put one hand on Dogaressa’s shoulder, ignoring the wince of disgust as a goopy residue deposited itself in her fur. “listen. i’ll be alright, this’ll pass, so just listen. anything you can do, anything you can try, you’ve got to let them know. what i saw in that lab, if i’m right, it changes everything. i know…” He paused to take a few breaths.

“What is it?”

“(What do you know now?)”

He looked up to face them, his left eye burning with light. “i know what happened to the bodies.”

* * *

Since arriving in the human world Asgore had to deal with everything being a touch too small for him, the ceilings a bit too low, the quarters a bit too cramped. The throne he was in now, by contrast, was sized perfectly for him, and it felt nice to stretch his legs. It was odd that Beatrice had the time to have it custom made considering she did not know he existed until about this time yesterday, but his understanding was that Beatrice was rich beyond anything the entire kingdom could imagine. Many things, even production bottlenecks, would bend to those with money.

Beatrice was clearly the ringleader of the gang consisting of the men and women whose children were fed to the mountain so the monsters could be free. She spearheaded the discussion, “Considering Ms. Campton’s temper I believe we should save Avery’s story for last. Because of that, it stands to reason we should proceed in the order in which our children disappeared. Does that sound fair?” The parents and the one sister agreed without much discussion. Patience first. “Very well. My niece, Lilly Thompson. I have reason to believe she disappeared on purpose and fell into the underground on accident. Can you confirm or deny?”

She stared at Asgore for the answer but it was Toriel who spoke first: “I found her wandering the Ruins in the deepest part of the underground. I brought her home and healed her injuries, and when she was feeling better she showed me exactly where she fell from. She described it as a wide, deep hole in the middle of a cave. It seemed like quite a fall; she apologized for ruining my flowerbed, but perhaps the loose soil helped break her fall and those of the others.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Others? You mean to say…?”

“Yes, all of the children entered through the exact same way. This was fortunate; I never would have met them all otherwise.”

“Flowerbed?” one of the Troy husbands asked. “You grew flowers underground?”

Something caught in Toriel’s throat. “No… Asgore was always the one with the green thumb. All I did was water them occasionally once they sprouted, but that was enough. Golden flowers grew in one spot in the Ruins, the place where Chara fell… and where I buried them, after they died. In a way tended to the flowers kept them in my memory.”

Asgore saw Beatrice’s face twitch but she said nothing. She had made her opinion on Chara clear during their phone call, but she did not pursue her line of inquiry face to face. Was she going easier on Toriel? Or did she somehow sense Toriel would not let her objection go as easily as Asgore did? The other parents nodded respectfully with sympathetic smiles on their faces… all except Mary Campton, who was still staring intently at Asgore while tapping two fingers against the pistol hung at her hip.

Toriel continued, “Lilly stayed a few days, then asked to be let out into the remainder of the Underground. She was… utterly self-confident. That must have been why I let her go; when she insisted she would find a way to leave it was impossible to not believe her. I cannot confirm nor deny she ran away on purpose, she did not confide in me to that extent. But she was a very clever girl, so it would not be odd for her to have had some plan in mind.”

Beatrice nodded slowly as if none of this was any surprise to her. “I see. But yet she was wrong. King Dreemurr, your turn. How did she die?”

Asgore rubbed his paws together, tapping one foot nervously. “I did not see the deed done myself. I met Lilly only for a brief moment. She traveled through the Underground apparently without incident. I did not know of her arrival until my Judge brought her to me-”

“Wait.” Beatrice held up a hand. “Your… Judge?”

“His name was Dr. Wing Din Gaster. His job was to examine how the human acted on their way to the castle and determine whether they deserved mercy.” He could sense Beatrice ready to pounce and decided to blunt her attack with honesty: “I was a coward.” Asgore lifted his head and met Beatrice’s eyes. “I had no will to carry out my own proclamation. My hope was that a human with an evil heart would be killed by my Judge, sparing me from having to do it myself.”

Beatrice chuckled to herself. “You truly are a wretch,” she mused. Odd… there did not seem to be any genuine malice in her tone of voice. There was a strange disconnect between what she said and what she meant that was keeping him from either relaxing or becoming too tense. “So the Judge killed my niece?”

And Asgore told her a story:

* * *

“ _Just a minute,” Asgore said cheerily as two sets of footsteps sounded behind him. “I just have to take care of these weeds…” He pulled out a particularly pernicious set of crabgrass and burned it on the spot, wiping his hands free of dirt. He got up off his knee and rose to his full height, preparing a friendly smile. “Now, what can I-”_

 _Standing in the doorway were two figures. The familiar one was a skeleton nearly as tall as Asgore in a white labcoat. That was Dr. Wing Din Gaster. The other, unfamiliar one, was much shorter with pale skin, long blonde hair, and a pale blue dress. She had two arms and two legs, though her hands were bound at the wrists in thick rope. The other end of the rope was being held by a disembodied skeletal hand with a hole in the middle of it._ If you’re quite finished, _Gaster signed with his actual hands._ There is a human soul here for you to harvest. This isn’t pleasant for any of us, so come on and hurry it up.

_She looked up at him with a weary expression and sunken eyes. She seemed mentally and physically exhausted, her eyes utterly devoid of hope or life. If he pulled out his trident and ran her through she would probably not even utter a cry of protest or pain. The thought made his heart ache. This is what his proclamation meant. He said he would kill her. He promised to kill her. Not just her, but the next six humans to fall after her as well. Would they all be children? Would he have to kill seven children who reminded him so much of Chara? Was his integrity so important to him that he would keep a promise he no longer wished to keep? Or would he hold onto his morals, knowing he would be stealing the last hope of monsters?_

_Faced with reality, he did the bravest and most cowardly thing he could. He turned away. “Bring her to the cells,” Asgore ordered. “Lock her up. Make sure  no unauthorized person comes to see her, but also that she is comfortable and well-cared for. No one is to harm her, do I make myself clear?”_

_The girl brightened up just the tiniest bit. Gaster, however, was much less amused. His eyelights burned with a fierce white light, and a sound like sand being poured out of a bucket squeezed through his clenched teeth._ Are you serious? _he signed._ This is what we have been waiting for. You have a duty to your people, a duty as a king! If you will not kill the humans for their souls, who will?

_Perhaps no one, and everyone would be better for it. Asgore tamped that treasonous thought down and said, “There is no need for us to kill her now. We need seven souls to break the barrier, yes? Whether she dies now or when there are seven humans makes no difference in the end, so let us spare her for now.” Perhaps he would find a way to break the barrier without killing any of them, given time, but he would keep that hope close to his chest for now._

_For a moment Gaster looked like he would not accept the explanation. His fists clenched tightly and his shoulders vibrated from barely suppressed rage. Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath._ Your wisdom, as always, is unimpeachable. I must insist, however, the opportunity to design and build a cell which will safely capture her soul should she die unexpectedly or commit suicide. Not that any of us want such a thing to happen, but… well, it would be best to prepare for anything. It should only take a few days.

_Asgore nodded and rubbed his chin. “Yes, you make a good point. Very well, begin your work.”_

_Gaster turned and walked back out through the arch to the Last Hallway. The human gave him a tiny smile and said appreciatively, “You’re not anything like she said you’d be.” Then the hand holding her rope tugged hard, pulling her away and following Dr. Gaster._

* * *

“That was the only time I ever saw or spoke with your niece. Gaster finished his work, and she died less than a week after being moved there.”

Beatrice tapped a fingernail against her desk. “So you attempted to spare her. But it didn’t work.”

Asgore nodded. “She was found dead in her cell one morning, on her bed like she was resting. There was no damage to her body but her soul was safely preserved. I immediately suspected magic as the murder weapon and ordered the assassin be found, but the search was fruitless. Dr. Gaster urged me to absorb the soul immediately and kill humans on the surface for the remaining ones we needed. Again I put it off, insisting we needed more time to prepare. He disagreed with me vehemently but only in private; he was a very traditional monster with deep loyalty to the crown. While he voiced his disapproval he bowed to my wishes in all respects, and he acted no differently then.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary Campton, mother of the Justice soul, shaking her head with a sour look on her face.

A dark shadow fell over Beatrice. She tapped her fingers against her desk and her smile waned to the tiniest curve. “Is it not possible this ‘Dr. Gaster’ murdered her?”

“That was the going theory,” Asgore explained. “I pursued that avenue of inquiry as well as I was able. But despite his genius and cunning, Gaster did not have many friends and even fewer allies. There were absolutely no associates he could ask to murder a human on his behalf, of this I am certain. He could not have involved himself directly, and he had no avenue of killing them indirectly.” He did not say the only evidence of Gaster’s innocence was his stubborn LOVE of 1. He hoped Beatrice did not press the issue; he doubted he would be able to explain that no, there was no way to kill someone with your own hands without gaining EXP, at least not in a way she would be able to accept.

In a rare show of grace Beatrice sighed and took Asgore at his word. “Well. I am disappointed to hear my niece laid down and surrendered, after everything she did to make it that far. I thought better of her. But you have no reason to lie about this if you’re going to admit the truth everywhere else. And I do think you’re telling the truth; you lack guile, King Dreemurr, which is a critical weakness for a ruler but I’ll happily take advantage of it. Very well, I am finished for now.”

The Sunapees barged in on the invitation, ““Uh, um-!”” They looked to each other, suppressing a wince, before Ms. Amanda Sunapee asked, “Our daughter. Did she ever… pick out a new name for herself?”

Toriel nodded. “She told me her name was Marijane. Is it common for children to choose their own names? I believe Chara may have done so as well.”

Amanda smiled. “It is not common, no. Would that it were or she would not have been so strange to us. I wish we could have been more like you. She told you what she was and you accepted it without question.”

The boss monster blinked several times. “That’s how it is and has always been for monsters. It is but a trifle.” Then she paused. “She was very angry, for a time. She asked about human gender and why it was so complicated even grown-ups could not understand. But I am not a human. Before Chara I had never seen a human in the flesh. I had no answers for her. Sometimes she cursed you, yes, but there were many more times that she was morose and downhearted, and I knew it was those times that she missed you. And more times still when she screamed and cried because she knew in her heart she would never see her parents again. She never told me so, but I believe she forgave you in time.”

The Sunapees looked at each other with wet smiles and a single clasp of the hand. “Thank you. We… seperated after she ran away,” Mr. Brian Sunapee explained. “Each of us blamed the other. It took a long time for us to accept that we drove her away. We just… didn’t think a child so small would have it in her. How was she? Did you make her happy?”

Toriel let herself think back to Marijane’s smiling face, her earnest appreciation, the way her joy for life and trust in others revealed themselves like a flower unfurling its petals after a long cold night. “She was… the hardest to say goodbye to. I kept her safe for five years, and would have never let her go if I could have. She was the only one to believe me when I told her the rest of the Underground may not be safe for humans. I taught her to cook, and to sew, and to be useful around the home. In fact, she stayed so long that a different human child left the ruins before she did. That would be… Tyrone, I believe.” She looked over to the sister who outlived her brother. “I did not know his name before last night. I saw him only for a single moment; he had no time for me or for my home in the Ruins. He-”

“Look lady,” Shakira Eaton cut her off. “You don’t have to say nothing to me. He was my big bro, a’ight? We were all we had, we were supposed to look out for each other, and he dropped me the second he couldn’t hack it. He got his own dumb ass killed, and I ain’t wasting any tears on him. Far as I’m concerned if him being dead did some good for you, well, at least _some_ body got _some_ thin’ out of him.”

Toriel swallowed, sharing a look with Asgore. “That seems harsh.”

The dark-skinned woman shrugged. “Yeah? Well it’s the truth. Can I go now?”

“Not yet,” Beatrice insisted. “I feel there is still much more we can get out of these two. You may continue, Brian.”

Brian Sunapee nodded. “Yes, please. You were speaking of… Marijane? How did… how did she die, Mr. Dreemurr?”

His turn again. He took a deep breath. “Marijane surrendered to Gaster and I had her placed in protective custody. She received only one visitor during her time there…”

* * *

This is quite unnecessary, _the fire elemental signed to him._ Certainly there are others who could do this, instead of having a king do the menial job of translation.

“ _It is the least I can do,” he explained as he unlocked the solid wooden door. “I am doing her a grave disservice by keeping her here, the least I can do is face her directly. Besides, you stressed the need to hurry. It would take time to summon another translator and I am perfectly up to the task.” The elemental accepted this without another word. They passed through two more locked doors before finally reaching a cell. Iron bars prevented anyone from getting more than a couple steps into this room; the rest of it was devoted to living quarters for the human occupant. The layout was spartan, with a couch for lying down on and a bookcase with various histories and little else. There was an alcove the occupant could duck into for privacy but every other inch of the cell was clearly visible from the outside._

_Said occupant was a human girl of about thirteen years old. She was quite pretty, although her cheekbones protruded awkwardly. The girl looked up with sallow eyes, but her expression brightened on seeing her visitor. “Grillby!” she cooed, rushing to the bars. “Are you here to spring me?”_

_The fire elemental shook his head sadly._ Would that I could, child. I certainly owe you that much for your part in bringing me together with Homura, especially when I was so awful toward you. _Asgore translated what Grillby was saying, providing the necessary inflection. He had to try three times to pronounce Homura’s name correctly, Grillby shaking his head when he got it wrong and shrugging his shoulders when he apparently got close enough._

_The girl’s eyes went wide and then flicked toward Asgore. “Are you sure you should be talking… in front of…”_

You are always thinking of others, child, _Grilly replied._ It is a good trait to have, but I have nothing to fear from the king. And, I cannot wait for anyone else to arrive. My employer is very angry. My future wife and I must flee the capital tonight. I may have already stayed too late, but when I learned of your imprisonment I had to at least say goodbye in person.

_The human gave him a serene smile. “I would hate to cause any trouble for you, and I’ll probably be here for a long time. But… thank you. It means a lot to me that I made at least one friend willing to visit.”_

_The flames of the elemental crackled in what might have been a chuckle._ If you are ever have a chance to visit Snowdin, come find us. I believe I will settle down and open a tavern there.

“ _I would like that a lot,” she said wistfully, looking up at Asgore. For permission?_

_Asgore coughed. “I’m sure a visit could be arranged, with supervision of course.”_

_The human brightened noticeably. Grillby bowed to Asgore and signed,_ I shall send word as soon as we are ready for customers. Until then, be safe young one. _He then turned and walked out ahead of Asgore._

“ _Grillby and I fought,” the human explained. “He tried to kill me on my way here, but I could tell he wasn’t a bad person. I got him and a really big ogre-lady to confess their love for each other, and after that he didn’t want to fight any more.”_

_Asgore nodded. “You have a kind heart, child. It sounds as though you changed his life for the better.”_

_She studied him for a moment, thinking. “You’re not a bad person, either.”_

_It physically hurt to keep his smile going. “I’m glad at least one of us thinks so.”_

* * *

Asgore finished his story with a sigh. “Two days later she was killed in the night, like the others before her. By this time I was frustrated; the same murder committed the same way pointed to a single perpetrator, but I was powerless to catch them in the act or protect the humans.”

“Having one prisoner die in your care is unfortunate,” Beatrice said icily. “Six deaths is negligence.”

“Only four died in-”

“And do you really think that distinction helps you? Never mind. Then how did Tyrone die?”

“Like Lilly before him, he was brought to me by Wing Din Gaster. He remembered what happened with Lilly and insisted I kill the human myself. Again I refused; I ordered a cell to be cleared out in the capital and the child kept in solitary confinement. It was a large cell, with privacy available in certain rooms, but the main area of the cell was viewable from the outside at any time. In this way I thought he would be safe; if the first child was killed because they were kept too secret, perhaps the second would be safe if anyone could see an attempted murder at any time. But… this failed. Once again I awoke to find a child dead and their soul collected. Again I put off visiting the surface. I am sorry I do not have more for you, Ms. Eaton, but it seemed Tyrone wished to leave as little of a mark on the Underground as possible.”

“If that ain’t the-!” Mary stood up and shouted, “You don’t really believe a word he’s is sayin’, do ya? ‘We had to do it ‘cause of the barrier’? Don’t you think we woulda known about this ‘barrier’ if it existed? Who’s to say they even live on Mt. Ebott, they could have been kidnappin’ folks fer-”

Beatrice stepped on that argument: “I have not sent anyone to investigate directly, but I have had people confirm the existence of a cave opening in Mt. Ebott which is easily visible to binoculars. These same people swear they have hiked Mt. Ebott several times and have never seen it before. It is possible the barrier had some way of concealing its presence; making itself look like a normal rock wall so no one would approach and be trapped underground. It does not explain how the children passed through, but since magic is on the table we might as well give credence to even the most apparently outlandish suggestions.”

Something tickled at Asgore’s mind. Something was strange about what Beatrice said. Nothing wrong or incorrect, he did not think she was lying, but something… and then Beatrice prodded the next person to speak and the thought was gone.

Penny Harris’ voice squeaked like a leaky balloon, and she kept her head down and her focus on Asgore’s midsection while she was talking. Her thinning brown hair was going prematurely gray, and her lips barely moved as she spoke. “Skye was… his father’s son. His first choice of name was ‘Michelle’… he thought giving Skye a girl’s name would make kids pick on him more and ‘toughen him up’. H-He was always like that, trying to make his son strong and manly. I worried for Skye, but… his father never hit either of us, alright? I feel like you should know that. He wasn’t a good father and he was a worse husband but he… he never wanted to be a bad man.” Mary Campton’s expression softened for the first time that afternoon as she put a comforting hand on Penny’s shoulder. Penny nodded and squeezed Mary’s hand to reassure her. “He was nothing without his boy; he used to be difficult to deal with, but it was like all his fire left him. He would wander around the house in a daze, he blew off poker night with his friends. He’d still watch his sports and his news shows but he stopped enjoying them. He died a few years later… heart failure. And I’ve been alone in that big house ever since.”

Toriel’s eyes watered. “Oh, my poor dear…” She knew what it was like to live in a cold and empty house. Too, too well.

Penny gave a wan smile. “It’s… it’s been better, since. I was a wreck, for a while, but I feel like I’m finally moving on. I don’t hate you, Mr. Dreemurr. And I don’t want you to die. But please, both of you, tell me what happened to my son.”

Toriel nodded, regaining her composure. “Very well. Skye did not stay with me long. Like Lilly he departed after only a few days. He was… well! Rambunctious and full of energy. After only a few hours I could tell I would never be able to hold him. He would outgrow the Ruins almost instantly. Still, I prepared him for his journey the best I could.”

* * *

“ _You have everything now?” Toriel fretted. “I won’t be able to open the door for you once you leave, and it is quite some distance to Snowdin Town.”_

 _The human made one last check, nodding his head. “New shoes, new coat, got a slice of pie and water in my pack… and yeah! My lucky bandanna and these sweet gloves you made for me!” He punched one hand with the other and reveled in the sharp, crisp sound it made on impact. “Anyone who messes with me is gonna get_ wrecked! _”_

“ _I admire your exuberance,” she said guardedly. “But please do not forget that monsters, even ones who follow Asgore, deserve mercy too.”_

“ _I ain’t gonna kill anyone, don’t worry. If they’re after my soul, though, I’m gonna show him who’s boss.”_

_She was dismayed at how awfully certain he seemed that he would not kill anyone but supposed that was the best she was going to get out of him. “Would you like a hug before you leave?”_

“ _My dad says real men don’t say goodbye with hugs and tears. They’re supposed to just… walk away into the sunset with a wave over their shoulder.” His smile faded and a sheen of water covered his eyes. “You won’t tell ‘im, right?”_

_Toriel knelt down and opened her arms and the human came barreling into her. He very nearly knocked her over but she managed to right herself and hug him back. His grip was very strong and she could feel her robes get moist. “I would never do anything to get you in trouble,” she said sadly. “You should never be sorry to show how you feel. No matter what that oaf you call your father says, shedding tears does not make you less of a man.” Indeed, in the good days Asgore cried a lot. She never thought of him as weak for it. It was rather the opposite: It was when he refused to cry, when he gave in to anger, that everything fell apart._

_The human pulled away and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Thank you, Toriel. I… I’ve needed to hear that for a long time. And coming from you, I think I can believe it too.” He gave her a thumbs-up and a wide grin. “Just you wait, you’ll hear of me all the way back here as the first human to cross back through the barrier!” He ran for the doors and pulled them open. And just like that he was gone._

* * *

“He was a born fighter. I believed if anyone could make it through to the barrier, he could. I hoped he could. But I was wrong.”

Penny listened intently, nodding. “That sounds like Skye. Mr. Asgore? Did you see him at all?”

Asgore took a breath. “I certainly heard of him. I received reports of a strange monster making a beeline for the capital. From the description of him I knew it was another human, but it seemed the previous humans had kept such a low profile none of my subjects recognized one. They, er, said the human was challenging everyone he met to a fight and… beating them up.” He winced as he said this last part.

Penny inhaled through her nose. “That… also sounds like Skye,” she admitted with an apologetic tone. “This… may sound strange, in the circumstances, but I hope he did not cause too much trouble for you.”

“He did not exactly make many friends, but bruises heal. Nothing he did was unforgivable. But by the time I saw him all the fight had left him. He had his head down and shuffled like he had not slept in days. I promised I would protect him, and the only thing he said was, ‘Liar.’ And, well, he was right. My Captain of the Royal Guard, Quilt, took Skye’s death personally; she was on duty at the time of his death, and resigned due to her failure to protect him. Other than that his death was like the others… at night, done in secrecy, no clues to his killer.”

“Is that all?” Beatrice asked. Asgore answered with a slow nod, dreading what would come next.

The Troy fathers had no such unease, realizing it was their turn to hear about their daughter. “Then, Rebecca!” Kyle said. “Tell us about Rebecca, both of you!”

Toriel nodded. “I remember the day she came to me very well. I found her unconscious in the field of flowers and took her home. I did what I could for her injuries, but I found it odd that her ankle refused to fully heal. At the time I was confused, but she explained to me her injury was permanent. That is, unfortunately, one of the limits of healing magic; all it does is provide energy for the body to heal itself, so diseases, fatal injuries, and incurable ailments are beyond its power. Magic and monster food could provide temporary relief but healing her injury was beyond me. She stayed with me for a year, hoping despite everything she knew that my magic could heal her leg and help her dance again. At last she gave up and insisted on being allowed out. As for the rest… Asgore.” She had meant for it to come out as a stinging command, but the name fell limply from her mouth and ended up sounding more like an apology.

Asgore said, “I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. It may be difficult to hear. But Rebecca never made it to me. She was seen entering the Last Hallway, but before meeting the judge she turned around and descended to the capital proper. From there, she… well.” He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. “She… began to murder as many monsters as she could find.”

Henry and Kyle Troy looked at each other and frowned. Henry spoke first, “Wh-what? Murder… Mr. Dreemurr, that’s, you’re joking. Rebecca would never have-”

“There is footage from several video cameras around the capital. There is no doubt whatsoever that she murdered them, many in cold blood. She killed nearly forty of my subjects, Mr. Troy, and may have killed many more had Dr. Gaster not… played his role. I may have died, if I found her first. As for why she did so… I cannot say. I can only speculate that my own goal, to capture human souls, may have played a role. So I will take on the guilt from her actions, in her stead.”

Kyle started like he was about to get up from his seat, but Henry’s hand at his shoulder stopped him. Asgore wished he could tell them more, but he really could not say. If the fact of her mass murder was hard to believe, than the reasons he heard for her doing so were preposterous…

* * *

_The streets, normally bustling at this time of day, were silent except for the rattling of his armor and the thumps of his footfalls. He followed the mostly intact set of gray footprints and smudges which veered inside houses and businesses before returning to the street thicker and more defined. The stale, dry scent of dust was heavy in the air, a grim portent of what lay at the end of the trail. He must be getting close. He must be, the line of carnage must end soon. He mentally recited the spell to conjure up his trident from pure magic, feeling a small bit of security as the energy crystallized into matter and settled in his paws. The next corner. He would turn the next corner and find the human. He had to; his heart would not be able to take it if he only found another set of dusty footprints, another street devoid of life._

_He found a grisly sight, but not the one he expected. A human girl laid face-down on the ground, scorch marks on the wall behind her. Dr. Wing Din Gaster and another, shorter skeleton (Sans? It had been years so he could not be sure but it certainly looked like a grown-up version of Asriel and Chara’s old playmate) knelt down over her. Gaster held a glass tube in his hands, and from within the tube a human soul pulsed with blue light. Ah, Asgore was too late, then. He exhaled with relief and immediately felt guilty. Should he really be so happy that once again someone else fulfilled his duty to protect his people? “Gaster!” he shouted. “Is it over?”_

_Gaster stood up and walked briskly over. He thrust the container into Asgore’s hands with enough force to cause the king to stumble. Once his hands were free his left hand cupped around the first two digits of his right hand, then he pulled those fingers out dramatically to point them up._ I quit.

_Asgore bumbled to get a firm grip on the soul container, blinking at him stupidly. “You… you what?”_

_Gaster’s fingers flailed as he struggled to contain everything he wanted to say._ You have no idea how lucky we have been, no idea at all! Any of the humans before now could have slaughtered every last one of us, and only their mercy kept them from it. Five times we have teetered on the brink of annihilation, and each time avoided it only because each of the humans would rather have died than have killed. It could have been worse than this, your Majesty, much worse!

“ _Doctor, I am afraid you have quite lost me. What has happened?”_

Before she died the human rambled on about many pointless things. But there is one thing she said that is of primal importance! When she fell into the underground this human gained the power to reverse time. She claimed I killed her many times over, in that hallway. Of course I have no memory of doing anything of the sort. Each time she died she returned to the start of the hallway, and only she remembered what happened. Even after dozens of attempts she could not keep me from killing her. So she… turned around. She came here, she did all this, to get revenge on me. Something like, “I won’t come back this time, and all these people will be dead because you’re such a bastard.” _If anything Gaster seemed proud of the epithet placed upon him._

_A chill settled over Asgore, more concerned over the conduct of his friend than the manner in which he learned of it. Time travel, alternate futures, it would take him days to comprehend that. But Gaster murdering this girl? That he could wrap his head around. “Would you really have killed her, had she approached you? No matter what?”_

_Gaster sneered._ You have never found fault with my performance before, will you start now that I have forsaken those responsibilities? At any rate I cannot rest. All my other lines of work must be abandoned. Unraveling the secret of their time manipulation abilities is now my number one priority. I have no time to be your Judge.

“ _Dr. Gaster, control yourself. You dismiss everything else the human said, why do you put so much stock in one statement?”_

Because if she was telling the truth then it is only through the mercy of humans that any of us are alive right now. You know full well how far a human’s mercy extends. We got five good humans, Asgore.

“ _Six,” Asgore corrected. “Chara never would have harmed anyone.”_

They never would have harmed a monster, _he corrected in a way which conceded the point._ But our luck will run out. On that day we must be ready. Before another human arrives, I will discover the secret of this ability and take it from them. For the survival of us all, I must. _He looked at the soul canister in Asgore’s hands and thought for a moment._ I nominate Sans to be the new Judge.

“ _Wh-what?!” the shorter skeleton took a step back. His eyes widened and his eye lights went out entirely. “Me?! Boss, I, uh, really don’t think I’m right for the job. I-I’ve barely even met a human before. A-and I have meltdown! I can’t even run across campus without leaving bits of myself behind, what’ll happen if I get in a real fight?”_

You are an excellent arbiter of character and you are familiar with my criteria. Your condition won’t be a problem, you know very well I’ve made certain of that. _Asgore raised an eyebrow. Sans curled inward on himself, looking like he very much wanted to turn away from Gaster but unable to bring himself to such rudeness to someone who communicated in sign._ I have faith in you, Sans. I could not ask for a better successor. _Gaster turned his attention back to Asgore, indicating without saying anything that the final decision rested in the hands of he who wore the crown._

 _Asgore sighed. Sans was clearly uncomfortable with the responsibility. It was possible he would grow into the position, but it was just as likely he would not. Meltdown did not concern him, he remembered catching flak for allowing Undyne to join the Royal Guard amid cries of favoritism but she certainly showed the naysayers “what was up”. Heck, at the rate she was going she could be the new Captain once Doge retired. His real concern was the temperament of the short skeleton. Sans had always been a bit reserved. As a child he would get led around by_ Chara _, quiet introverted Chara of all people. Would Sans be able to put down a human the way Gaster could, the way Gaster had today? But he needed a Judge. He straightened his back and made his offer: “Sans, Dr. Gaster is not only an old and dear friend but the finest mind in all the Kingdom. If he recommends you that is all the assurance I need you are indeed up to the task. Will you accept the honor and responsibility as my Judge?”_

_Sans looked from Asgore to Gaster and back again, his face still as death. He closed his eyes and nodded once. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do it. Only two more souls, right?”_

_Asgore bowed deeply. “Thank you. Gaster, before you go, I think it would be a good idea to take a reading of your EXP. Knowing how much you acquired from doing your duty would- you’re shaking your head no. Why not?”_

The circumstances of her death were highly unusual. I did not have the opportunity to control all the variables I would need to. Recording how much EXP I got for killing her would introduce unnecessary noise into the data. _His hands wavered a little during his signs. Nervousness? From Gaster?_ Besides, now that I am no longer the Judge and not under suspicion my EXP is not something you can casually demand. Will you deny my right to privacy?

“ _No, you’re right,” he conceded. “I will defer to your judgment. You are free to go.” Perhaps there was something to Gaster’s objections. Asgore was having trouble detecting any change at all in Gaster’s EXP, so he must have gotten so little he did not even gain LOVE. But that obviously could not be, not when the human was so strong and had killed so many! It would be a curious outlier… better to remove this incident from the data pool._

 _Gaster took one last look at the fallen human’s body._ Do with it what you will, but do it quickly. If you leave it in the hands of the public they just might tear it apart. _Then he walked away unhurriedly with his hands behind his back, Sans following in his footsteps at double-time to make up for the taller skeleton’s longer gait._

* * *

So he had no comfort to offer the Troy husbands as they struggled to make sense of it. How could their daughter, the one they loved so much, do such a thing? He would have to explain timelines, and time travel, and the curious circumstances of the Underground. No way. That was not a discussion he could have here.

“And… Avery.” Toriel glanced at Mary, who had crossed her arms and legs and bounced her foot up and down. “He stayed with me only one night. I do not believe he slept well, yelling and crying. In the morning he took his breakfast to go and insisted on going to the castle. I tried to argue with him but he… pointed his gun at me. I did not know what it was but by his stance I assumed it was a weapon of some kind and he was threatening me. I… I was so shocked I allowed him to leave.”

“As for how he died,” Asgore began. “This… may be difficult to hear.”

* * *

“ _Just a minute,” Asgore said as he heard someone enter the room behind him. “I am almost-”_

“ _No time for that!” Sans yelled, his voice straining. “You gotta help him!”_

_Asgore whirled around. Sans, his eyesockets wide, had a human child draped over his shoulder. His labcoat was dyed with red stripes from fresh blood, and the human hung limply. Asgore threw his watering can aside and rushed to take the child from him. As soon as he did Sans fell on his backside and rubbed a bit of sweat from his brow. No, that was not sweat. Slime? It looked as though he was exuding slime, but that must have been… meltdown. Oh, Alphys said he was supposed to call it chronic conci-something, but that was too long for him to remember, let alone say. “Are you quite alright, Sans?”_

“ _It’s not that bad,” the skeleton said as he sat down in the flowers. “I’ve lived through worse. I’m staying together, I’m just a little more… malleable, is all. But him! You gotta do something to save him!”_

_Asgore turned his attention to the human and shuddered. The human was bleeding profusely from a hole in the side of his head. The blood stained Asgore’s paws and dripped down to the flowers. The child’s eyes were closed, his jaw was slack, and his body sagged like only dead weight could. The child was unconscious. They would be dead in moments._

_Asgore squeezed his eyes shut. “There is nothing I can do,” he admitted. “Green magic can close the wound and yellow magic might give them more energy, but they have lost too much blood. No matter how much energy I give to him or how much I do, it won’t be enough. Healing magic has its limits, especially when it comes to physical bodies.” He pushed some of the child’s hair aside to look at the wound. So small, and yet it sealed the child’s fate. It was round but too wide to be an arrow and too clean to be a spear. “What caused this? I’ve never seen anything like it.”_

_Sans held out a strange metal object, holding it by the cylinder end and not by the obvious handle. “It’s called a ‘gun’. The human showed it to me and explained how it worked. See, there’s this weird-looking thing on the back, he called it the ‘hammer’. Pull it back and it locks in place. Then you squeeze on this part, the ‘trigger’, and the hammer slams down. If there’s a bullet in the chamber it shoots forward and does, well,_ that _to whatever it’s pointed at.”_

_Asgore took the strange device. It fit neatly into his palm, so small he could never use it but somehow deadly enough to destroy its user. “A bullet?”_

“ _Not like ours,” Sans said gravely. He displayed a small metal cylinder which was rounded on one end, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. It was about as thin as one of Sans’ phylanges and no longer than a fingerbone. “It’s small, and it’s fast. Too fast to be seen. The kid’s got three kills to his name, and I know one of them was Doge.”_

_Asgore blinked. “My Captain of the Royal Guard?”_

_Sans nodded. “He said one shot was all it took. For this, too. He did it to himself.” Asgore looked up at him in horror and Sans sighed. “He put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. Didn’t tell me why, not in so many words, but I think in a weird way he was trying to spare my feelings.” He replaced the bullet in his pocket and averted his eyes. “Do you think I killed him? In other timelines, I mean. Did I blast him like Gaster would have, and he decided he’d rather kill himself than let me do it?”_

_Asgore shook his head. “You shouldn’t let yourself get caught up in that. Gaster allowed the question of those timelines to consume him, and you know better than I where that led him. Instead you should-”_

“ _I can’t just forget it,” Sans growled, before rapping his knuckles against his forehead. “Heh, sorry about that. I know you’re right. I just…”_

_He was saved from having to elaborate by a yellow light shining from the child. His soul, a beacon of Justice, had emerged from his chest. Dead, then. He had died just now. Sans pulled a canister from the pocket of his coat, fiddled with the ends a bit, and-_

FWTHUMP!

_With a sound like a vacuum cleaner devouring a handkerchief the soul was sucked into the container. It glowed softly and warmly, seemingly inured to the horrible scene around it. Sans sighed and set the container on the grass, then fell backwards. “All yours, boss,” he said. “Sorry for messing up your flowers.”_

_Asgore sighed. “It’s… it’s quite alright. I suppose I’ve sort of let them get… out of hand.” He really ought to control their growth more, but for some reason he was never able to bring himself to do it._

_Sans breathed in and out for several minutes while Asgore returned to his gardening. At first he thought Sans was napping until the skeleton asked, “hey asgore, you ever thought the way chara died was weird? like, getting that sick that suddenly… do you suppose that really happens to humans?”_

_The fur on his hackles stiffened, and he was very thankful his back was to Sans. His new Judge was extremely good at reading facial expressions, and he did not dare think about what secrets would be revealed if Sans could see his face now. “It must be possible since that’s what happened,” Asgore replied. He paused, considering that his tone might have been too harsh. “Gaster knew more about human bodies than anyone, but our knowledge was always inadequate.”_

“… _yeah. yeah, i guess that makes sense. forget i said anything.”_

“ _Are you alright, Sans? Your voice just now…”_

“ _Huh?” Sans said, lifting his head up. “What about my voice?”_

_He blinked. “Nothing, it must have been my imagination. Nap as long as you wish, Sans, your company is welcome.”_

“ _Thanks all the same, but I… i really oughta be heading back. take some ‘me’ time, you know?”_

“ _I fully understand. But can I at least interest you in some tea or-” When Asgore turned Sans was already gone, leaving only a few white splotches on the flowers where he had been laying a moment ago._

* * *

Mary fumed, “Now I _know_ yer a lyin’ sunova snake!” Penny made a grab to keep her in her seat like Henry did for Kyle, but she was too slow. Mary’s seat rumbled from the force of her violence. “My boy never woulda been such a coward, never! I don’t need to hear a damn thing more, I’m ready to shoot this freak and bury him in the woods!”

“Hold on!” Amanda said, raising her voice. “I agree what he’s done is terrible, but we aren’t… really going to kill him, are we? I don’t think that’s what Wen- Marijane would have wanted.”

Her ex-husband swiveled in his seat toward her and reasoned, “None of them wanted to die, either, and he has to pay for what he’s done. He’s a king, he might get diplomatic immunity or something!”

“Even so,” Amanda protested. “Wouldn’t it be best to leave it to the courts? Have a trial, prove his guilt, like civilized people?”

“We don’t need no trials,” Mary sneered. “Out in the woods, we have our own justice. ‘Shotgun, shovel, shut up.’ I didn’t come here to play pattycakes, I’m here to make sure no kid ever has to go through what my Avery did ever again! And I know just how to do that…!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Henry got out of his seat, Kyle right next to him, holding out their arms to form a physical barrier between Mary and Asgore. “We don’t have to kill him! We can turn him in to the police and let them take care of it. He’s already confessed, he’s not going to fight it!”

Penny raised her hand. “Erm… I say… let’s have a vote, to see what we’ll do. If the rest of you are finished with Asgore.”

Mary scoffed. “A vote? I’m the one with the gun and y’all think we’re gonna have a _vote_?”

Asgore clenched his fists. The fated time had arrived. He forced himself to breathe in and out, certain any breath might be his last. This was the inevitable result of his actions. He could not say he didn't deserve this. Let it come. Let it come.

At the very moment he accepted his death one of Beatrice’s security agents entered the room. He carefully stepped around the brewing argument and bent at the waist to whisper something in Beatrice’s ear. Beatrice listened with an unwavering expression but a distracted gaze. Finally she turned toward him and said aloud, “Intruders on the premises?” Her voice got the attention of everyone and she waved her man on, “Go ahead, if there’s a danger this concerns them as well.”

The man straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. “There should not be any danger, ma’am. It appears to be a few kids from the city who climbed over the fences and are running amok within the house. We are trying to keep any property damage they deal to a minimum but we don’t believe they’re a threat.”

Beatrice tapped a finger against her desk. “Hm. Odd for them to come today of all days, isn’t it? Well, it isn’t my job to discipline children. Round them up and see if you can contact whoever their parents are, this house is too far into the wilderness for children to be running around unsuper-”

The door slammed open, prompting Asgore to stand and turn just in time to see the doorknob bouncing off the side of a bookshelf and leave a dent. Standing in the doorway was a red-faced and panting youth. The child had blond hair and blue-bordering-on-gray eyes. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, both nearly spotless. Instead of retreating when he entered a room with so many grown-ups he immediately started looking from one face to another. He held his breath when he saw Ms. Campton’s face, and she in turn paled as their eyes met. Her hands flew up and covered her mouth to stop her scream. She leaned forward so far she was about to defy gravity, like an excited dog pulling its leash taut. Her trembling hands lowered just enough to allow her to ask in a weak voice, “… Avery? It cain’t be… is that you?”

The boy stiffened. He stood up as straight as he could, eyes watering. His mouth opened but he closed it again before any sound could come out. He tried again and said with a quivering lower lip, “Ah did somethin’ real bad, momma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered putting the Sans bit at the beginning of this chapter at the end of the last one. I decided that if I ended a chapter on that note and gave people several weeks to consider what Sans may have found out, people were going to figure out the twist. It’s not a decision I would have made if I were not releasing this story as a serial. Also, you have no idea how much I was giggling when I wrote the bit in chapter 8 where Undyne protests the human bodies did not get up and walk away on their own.  
> I realize some people might be a little mad about this plot development after all the work to keep things semi-realistic so far. The only thing I’ll say right now is that the open coffins are in the game itself and this is setup for Chara’s eventual revival, and any plot with that goal is going to involve at least a little bit of an asspull. Next chapter we’ll get a few more details on how the kids are alive and what had to be done to do it, though I’ll be keeping a couple cards close to my chest. I can’t reveal all my secrets just yet!


	13. The Dead and the Living, Part 2

The spell keeping Ms. Campton in place shattered. She bolted past Asgore’s throne and fell to her knees in front of her child, wrapping her arms around Avery’s neck. “It’s you,” she sobbed. “It’s you, it’s you, ah, Ah can’t…” Her son hugged her back, sniffling and rubbing his eyes against her shoulder.

“Ah hurt dad,” he cried back. “Ah didn’t know, Ah didn’t see, but-”

“Never mind,” Mary said. “It was an accident. You didn’t mean no harm, you was trying to protect us. You did just what you were supposed to.”

Asgore rose to his feet as his jaw dropped. He _had_ seen this child before, only once. At that time his eyes had been closed, the color was leaving his face, and blood was pouring from a bullet wound in the side of his head. Asgore had watched as the child’s pulse had slowed and his yellow soul erupted from his body. It fell to him to voice the word every other person in the room was thinking: “Impossible.”

Avery Campton, the seventh human child to fall into Mt. Ebott, looked up at the king of monsters and wiped his eyes with a sniffle. “You’re Mr. Asgore, arencha?” He calmly reached for the right side of his head and pushed his hair aside to reveal a small circular scar at his temple. “Sorry Ah don’t knew fer sure, Ah reckon Ah was lookin’ kinda poorly the last time we met.”

His mother looked at the wound incredulously. She rubbed it with her fingers, seeing but not believing. “This…”

The boy shrugged and looked to the side. “I figgered things’d work out, if there were no more killers in the underground. I was the only one left so I had to go. I’m sorry, it just… it made sense, at the time.” Then he was caught in a bearhug as his mother clasped him tightly around the shoulders.

Beatrice turned her head to her security man with an intense purpose. “… How many children are on the property?”

The man wiped his eyes and returned to his sense of professionalism with a cough. “Um… there may be as many as five more, ma’am. So six if you count this young man here.”

Beatrice continued smiling as though nothing was wrong. “Six, you say. _Six_. Hmmmmm.” The adults all looked at each other, each one thinking the same impossible thought. The truth was as clear as it was unbelievable. “Bring them here,” Beatrice demanded. “Calmly, carefully. Do not harm even a single one of them, do you understand me?” The man saluted and strode out the door in calm but hurried steps.

A stunned silence fell over the gathered humans and monsters. Penny was the first to move, looking from Beatrice to Avery. “You… you don’t really think…?”

Avery nodded. “It’s jes’ whatcha think. We’re okay. I happened to find y’all first but we’re alive, we’re all alive. So don’t any of you hurt Mr. Dreemurr, aight?”

“Avery!” his mother shouted. “He’s the scum-suckin’-

“He had a rough time of it,” Avery stood his ground. “He didn’t have any good choices ta make. He did the best he could and tried to keep us all alive. I’m askin’ ya, I’m beggin’ ya from all of us… don’t do nuthin’ to hurt ‘im.”

For a moment Mary looked as though she was going to lash out. Instead her shoulders relaxed and she squeezed her boy. “A’ight. I ain’t never gonna like ‘im, but Ah won’t kill ‘im.”

“You have a yellow soul, young one,” Asgore said, getting down on one knee. “It’s the color of Justice. An ambition to mold the world into a shape better than what it is now, conviction that a better world is possible. I am… immensely grateful that your vision of the future has me in it.”

Avery put out his hand for a shake. “You never hurt me none. You got a good heart yerself, Mr. Dreemurr.” Asgore reached out and took Avery’s hand between his thumb and forefinger, pumping once.

Amanda stepped forward. “I don’t know how you did it,” she said to Asgore. “But… we may owe you an apology.”

Asgore released Avery’s hand and swallowed. He rose to his feet and held out his hands. “I… I am glad for this fortunate event, but I had nothing to do with it. I-”

“Enough!” Beatrice shouted, her smile vanishing. Her eyes blazed with a white-hot fire. “You are a fool if you say another word. Take the credit for it, you boob. You are not so stupid as to think we were going to have tea and cookies before sending you off on your way, are you? Either I was going to have you arrested or let the widow Campton kill you herself, but before these children appeared you were not going to leave this house under your own power. So you don’t know how it happened, that’s no real trouble. Can’t you simply say magic returned them to life?”

“But magic can’t do that!” he protested. “Magic isn’t enough to revive the dead! You would have to be a god!”

“An act of God, then?” Beatrice sighed but she replaced the smile on her face. “Very well, we will leave it at that. I suppose we will have time to teach you the finer arts of diplomacy.”

Time. Time. Suddenly everything clicked for Asgore. Too late he realized what had struck him as odd. The mayor had called Beatrice yesterday evening and told her of the existence of monsters and the fate of the children. Between then and now she had investigated and found the entrance to the Underground, spoke with the relatives of the fallen children and gotten them to agree to this meeting, researched Chara, and had the throne carved for him. Could all that really have been done in a single day? And then there was the strange disconnect between what she said and what she conveyed; her words and her moods did not match. What if it was not her idiosyncrasy, but instead Beatrice was simply a bad actor? And the children! They could only have escaped the Underground at a single moment, when every monster was still unconscious following the appearance of that flower four full days ago! Where had they been between then and now? What if Beatrice had not had a single day, but an entire weekend to plan this meeting? And beyond all of that, how could the children have made their appearance at this precise place and time? The coincidence was too outrageous to believe.

He stared hard into Beatrice’s eyes, his question written on his face. _Did you know?_ She looked back unflinchingly and answered with narrowed eyes, a blush on her cheeks, and a grin that widened to swallow the earth.

* * *

Frisk sat on the steps of the school. The buses had all left and most of the other kids had parents or guardians pick them up already. The substitute, Mr. Moulton, waited with them. At first he tried to ask about Frisk’s time in class and how they were liking the school, but after being rebuffed he did not try to strike up conversation again.

Silas’ white sedan pulled up and Frisk identified it as belonging to their guardian. Mr. Moulton let them go and Frisk got into the car, staring at the backpack set between their feet while they snapped their seatbelt on.

Silas asked, “Finished your second day. How are your classmates treating you?”

Frisk shrugged. They had been looking forward to this all day. Time to be all alone with Silas. But now that it was here their throat closed up and their stomach twisted. They stole a glance at him but he was not even looking, the road taking up his full attention. “I get ignored. I don’t fit in, yet.” The last word had been awkwardly stapled onto the end in an effort to disguise the meaning of what they said.

Silas did not notice the deception; his eyebrow would have raised if he had. “It’s been too long since I was a child,” he coughed. “And I never transfered schools mid-year. I’m not sure whether that’s normal or not. But I’m sure the other kids will accept you in time.”

Everyone was always so sure of that. Who did they really think they were fooling? But Frisk said nothing to contradict what they knew in their heart was not true. Every time they opened their mouth they couldn’t help but wonder whether they were going to say something stupid. Because they were going to, sooner or later, and at first Silas would laugh and think Frisk was being silly. But that wouldn’t last. He would not think that forever. Frisk looked out the window at the rows of packed-together houses with wide driveways and front laws the size of postage stamps. Why? Even after freeing the Underground, why had nothing changed for them?

They asked, “Do you think Asgore and Toriel are okay?”

“I hope they are,” Silas replied. “But I have no way of knowing. Neither of them have cell phones and they likely would not be able to get away to use them anyway. All we can do now is pray for them.”

Frisk sunk further into the seat and watched suburbia pass by. “Mmm.”

* * *

The chairs were moved around while the rest of the children were rounded up. Instead of an inquisitorial semi-circle around Asgore’s throne, now all the adults were in a line facing the door. Each of them wrung their hands and shuffled their feet and held their breath. Each trying to remember, what happened the last time we saw our children? How did they leave us? How were they feeling then? And how had the intervening years and decades treated them? Toriel and Asgore were nervous as well. Their hope was even more impossible: that the estimates were wrong and it was actually eight children who had broken through the barrier between life and death.

The first child to arrive after Avery was a young girl with a round face. Her brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, revealing the tiny widow’s peak at the top of her hairline. She started on being brought into a room with so many grown-ups and looked ready to shout or scream if she did not seize up first, then shook off her escort to bolt for Toriel. She wrapped her hands around the boss monster’s stomach, trembling. Marijane, poor sweet Marijane. Toriel swallowed and sent an apologetic look over to her parents. This child, Toriel has raised this child as her own for five years. Nearly half her life had been spent away from her parents… would she even recognize them now?

Amanda and Brian Sunapee silently agreed who would be better suited to appeal to their daughter. Amanda stepped forward. “Marijane? That’s your name now, isn’t it?” The girl turned at the sound of her name but made no move to release Toriel. She had been so small when she first fell to the underground, the last time she saw her parents, but now she was nearly five feet tall. Amanda barely needed to squat to put herself on eye level with her daughter. “I know we weren’t good to you before. I’m sorry we didn’t understand. We’ve spent… so, so long, regretting what we did. We have wanted to make it up to you all this time. And we would be, incredibly grateful if you gave us a chance to do that. If you would forgive us, and let us be your mommy and daddy again.”

Marijane swallowed and looked up at Toriel. For advice, or for permission? Toriel patted her head softly. “Only you can make the choice,” she said. “Only you truly know your own heart. But I was honored to take care of you those five years, and I learned a bit about you. And I think you have been looking forward to this day when you could show them the good, strong, kind girl you’ve grown up to be.”

Toriel swallowed her tears. It felt like she was letting her go off to her death all over again. But the moment Marijane released her she knew it was for the best. The human girl took a few tentative steps forward, looked back at Toriel with a complicated smile, then ran toward her parents. She hugged her mother and breathed in through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have run away. I was young, and stupid, and I freaked out.”

“It’s fine,” Amanda said, and Brian finally joined them in a family hug. “It’s fine. We’re sorry too. We’re just glad you’re back and you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

“Soon,” Marijane said through a tight throat. “My body… it’s going to turn into something else. Something I don’t want. I left Toriel because I thought humans might… that they could fix me.” She opened her mouth to say more but was unable. Her eyes did the pleading for her.

“There are some options.” Amanda squeezed her daughter’s shoulders. “After you disappeared, we learned all we could. There are things we can do, things we can try. We want you to be happy, and we’ll figure out the best way to get there.” Marijane buried her face in her mother’s breast and sobbed.

While they scooted off to a corner of the room for privacy a dark-skinned lad was the next to enter, being led by the arm by one of Beatrice’s tuxedo-clad security agents. He had a tight face and and a head that looked large but was not, an illusion created by hair shaved almost to the skin. Tyrone Eaton yanked his arm free and rubbed his hand with a scowl. Shakira stood and walked over to him, her face carefully neutral. The younger sister now towered over her brother, and he snickered as he looked up into her face. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

Tyrone waved off, “It’s nothing. I just… you remember that time when you were four, and you got real mad and swore red-faced that someday you were going to grow up to be older than me?”

“You idiot!” she screamed, falling to her knees to wrap her arms around him before anyone could react. Her disguise of indifference crumbled in an instant. “You big, dumb idiot… don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

Tyrone shuffled nervously from one foot to the other before slowly, haltingly, hugging his sister back. “… Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve left you alone.”

“I owe you nuthin’,” she said with a cracking voice. “An’ you’ve got a lot to make up for. So I ain’t letting you go. I’m gonna keep you forever. You’ll never be free again, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded into her shoulder. “I gotcha. Thanks… and sorry again.”

Ms. Eaton had barely made it back to her chair with her brother in tow before the next child in the procession was brought it. It was a tall and slender girl of almost fourteen years. Her black hair was done up in braids and she deliberately favored her right leg as she walked. Asgore felt his throat clench. The last time he had seen this girl she had been lying on the side of the streets of the capital, covered in dust. Rebecca Troy entered the room staring at her shoes, holding the security agents’ hand in a white-knuckle death grip. Henry and Kyle rushed forward, hugging her while blubbering indecipherable words of comfort. The agent made himself scarce and released her, but she did not return her fathers’ affection. “Wait,” she said as she extricated herself. “Wait. There’s… something I need to do first, before anything.” She walked with slow, deliberative steps to Asgore and craned her neck to look up at him with shimmering eyes. “I… I’m sorry. I hurt… I killed so many of your people. They aren’t ever coming back. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done. I know I should be grateful for another chance at life. But if it’s what you want, I won’t stop you from taking your revenge.”

“Becca, no!” Kyle said. “We just got you back, you can’t-”

“You were going to kill him,” Rebecca snapped. “Don’t tell me you weren’t! If he deserved to die for six deaths, I deserve to die for forty. Like… can you even grasp that? Forty! Each of them was important to someone! Forty Lillys, forty Averys, forty Rebeccas! And it’ll never be better, nothing can ever make it better!” She bared her teeth and sunk to her knees, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry!” Rebecca sobbed. “I’m sorry! I-I…”

Her fathers watched on, helpless. Even Toriel could only cover her mouth and cry silently. Asgore stepped in front of her, his face a mask of sorrow. “I don’t want your life, Rebecca. I will not be so ungrateful that I would refuse to extend the mercy granted to me. Rise, and return to your own life. Find a way to move on, and carry your mistakes with you. That is the best any of us can do.”

Rebecca continued sobbing, unable to answer. Asgore knelt down and opened his arms, and she dived into them while continuing to cry. He patted her on the head; he had never wanted to hurt anyone, not even her, not even after what she had done. He was sure she once thought the same way, before an untold number of deaths broke her down. “You were in a terrible situation,” Asgore said quietly. “I know some of it, but only another one of the children who fell down can ever truly understand. It should not have happened to anyone, let alone someone as young as you. All of us have a limit. I am sorry, for my part in pushing you past yours.”

She nodded and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her sleeves. “What about… the others? Their families, their friends? You can’t… really speak for all of them, can you? Surely-”

So she was looking for someone to take the pain of her sins away in the most final way possible. Another feeling he could intimately relate to. “There has been enough hatred. More killing will not solve anything. Go. Your own parents can comfort you better than I ever will. Do not let the single act you regret be all you are known for.” He released her and she went back to the loving arms of her fathers.

A stocky boy was led in next, wearing semi-formal clothing that did not quite fit with his thick, working-class face. His nose was his most prominent feature, if only because it had clearly taken a bad hit at some point and healed slightly crooked. His brown hair curled up at the edges, messy in the way that only someone who has never held a comb in their life can manage. He walked in on tiptoe and scanned the crowd, his face brightening as he saw Penny. “Mom!” Skye Harris shouted, waving his arm. “Mom, I’m here!” Penny opened her arms for a hug. He hesitated slightly, guaging the rest of the room for whether it would be embarrassing for a quick moment before throwing caution to the wind and embracing his mother with a laugh. He pulled away with a curious expression, looking around the room one more time. “… Where’s dad?”

Penny sucked in air. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Losing you… it tore him up inside. He was never the same. Whatever else you feel about him, he loved you and… he couldn’t go on without you.”

Skye stared at his mother as his smile slid off his face. “Oh,” he said finally, with no inflection. “Oh, right. I guess I should have figured… okay. Okay.” He scratched at his head and motioned toward the couch. “I guess we should, sit down. Make room for the others, y’know.” It made Toriel’s heart ache to see him like that, but there was nothing she could do right now. She knew Skye was more emotionally distant than any of the other children she knew, possibly even more so than Chara had been, and he would not be able to let himself go in so public a place. He would control himself until he was alone, and even then he would grieve in a very quiet, very private way so no one else would know what was happening. That was the way he was.

Last but certainly not least was Beatrice’s niece. Lilly Thompson had been born more than thirty years ago. She should have been a healthy middle-aged woman. Instead here she was, still a young girl yet to come into her own as a woman, the exact same age she was when she died. Her pale face and long blond hair She did not need to scan the crowd for her aunt; her eyes went right to the seat behind the desk, reserved for the most important person in the room, and there Beatrice was. “You got old,” Lilly said with a smirk, tears at the corners of her eyes.

“It is not my fault you took your sweet time,” Beatrice chided. She stood up from her seat, leaning heavily on a cane. When she was sitting she projected immortal and unshakable strength; when she stood her shoulders were hunched and her footing unsteady, even her cane hand wobbled, and it struck Asgore just then that Beatrice was very old indeed. She continued in a softer tone, “It is good to see you again, dear. Come here, let me get a good look at you.” Lilly stepped around the line of envious parents and over to her aunt to share a hug. “I have missed you.”

Now that Asgore knew what to look for it was obvious; Beatrice and Lilly acted as though they had spent a weekend apart, rather than a long absence of twenty four years. Should he say something about it? No… regardless of her aims, it would solve nothing to make an accusation he could not prove, especially when he had no idea why she would hide the children’s return. He glanced at Toriel and saw in her face the same calculation. Of course she saw through it, if Beatrice’s artifice could not fool Asgore of course Toriel would catch it as well. Even after being separated for thirty years they could understand each other without speaking a word. Toriel looked away first but her face was set: for now staying quiet would be for the best.

Asgore waited, his eye on the door, but it seemed all the children had been accounted for. His insides felt like they were being crumpled up to get tossed into the garbage. He was being greedy, he knew that. After six miracles it would be nothing short of avarice to wish for a seventh, let alone an eighth. And yet… and yet. He could not help feeling bitter. Seven families suffered loss. Six of them found peace. One was left out. Why? Was this a punishment for his anger?

Beatrice explained, “I’ve already had the papers contacted. The press ought to be told of the return of our children as well as the people who made it possible. Ah ah, don’t you argue Mr. Dreemurr, you are never going to have more favorable circumstances to announce the return of monsters than this. I’ve been told you may have need of the campgrounds around Mt. Ebott, or at least the land it rests on. We may talk of that tomorrow; for now we must give all the world this wonderful news. Don’t you think so, your majesty?”

He should be happy. Ecstatic even. The guillotine blade which had been threatening him since the barrier was destroyed had vanished, and the single greatest obstacle to monster integration was now cleared. But he could not enjoy it because he did not understand Beatrice’s motives. She had engineered this play without the knowledge of the other parents, but to what end? If she wanted him dead she could have easily killed him without the production. He and Silas had been warned over and over that there was not a speck of honest altruism in her body. Money could not have been the concern, she was worth far more than the entire combined wealth of the monsters. So what was she after? He could not shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap far more devious than the threat he had faced down.

He set those concerns aside. For the moment he would go along with whatever she had planned out of expedience. “Very well, Ms. Lincoln. Let us go make history. Ah, but first, can I make a phone call…?”

* * *

Silas had barely gotten in the door when the phone started ringing. What rotten luck. He picked up the phone and started taking off his suit jacket. “Pembrooke residence.”

“Uh, buddy, we got a serious problem here…”

Marty? Damn it. Beatrice’s mansion was thirty minutes away, he’d never make it there in time. He reversed his direction to put his coat back on, swapping his phone from one hand to the other as he pulled it over his shoulders. “You’re going to have to handle it yourself until I arrive. Get Toriel and Asgore out of there, I can’t-”

“Hullo?” came Asgore’s voice from the other end of the phone, sounding nonchalant. “Silas, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here, what’s the matter? I’m putting you on speaker. What’s going on?” He waved over the three monsters and pointed to his phone. Undyne and Papyrus walked over quizzically; Alphys did not move from her spot at the computer but turned her head to listen better.

“Oh! Toriel and I met with the parents of the other children. It was, er, a little touch-and-go for a moment, but things went better than we had any right to expect. Only, um, I think it might be better if you could, uh, get Alphys and Undyne back to the Underground.”

Silas's heartbeat rabbited against his chest. He struggled to keep his panic out of his voice. “Asgore, when answering a question you have to be precise. What. Happened?”

There was a pause and he heard rustling as the phone changed hands once again. “Silas?” This time it was Toriel’s voice, her voice cracked from recently shed tears. “My ex-husband’s incompetence has worked out in our favor for once, as it turns out he can’t even kill children properly. They’re alive. All of them, all six of the humans who fell after Chara, they all lived.”

Toriel repetitions of that basic fact were necessary: Silas, the monsters, and even Frisk stared at the phone in wide-eyed silence. The worry Silas had been feeling drained away, leaving him too exhausted to fully process what he just heard. That must be the problem, right? Surely Toriel did not just say… well. He swallowed saliva to soothe his suddenly dry throat. “That’s… impossible.”

“That’s what I said!” Asgore complained in the background, but the phone only barely picked his voice up and Toriel did not acknowledge it.

Instead she continued, “To take advantage of this opportunity, we are going to announce their survival and our existence to the world. I realize we had not planned on this, but in the circumstances-”

Silas agreed, “It’s not ideal, but it probably can’t be avoided, right. Are you sure you’re ready? We haven’t gone over what you were going to say nor finalized your plans for reintegration.”

“Asgore has almost a thousand years of practice at public speaking. I am confident in his abilities in that area if nothing else. To begin, I expect most of today and the next few days will be informational; humans know nothing about us so we have to start from the beginning with magic, and the barrier, and everything. As you've said before, anything more than that will be too much at once.”

Made sense. Silas rubbed at his eyes. “So tell me again why you need me to drive back to Mt. Ebott?”

“When we tell the humans where the monsters have been until now, the mountain will become very busy. We need Undyne there to make sure humans do not swarm inside. We will also need Alphys to begin planning logistics for the move. I feel given her… abilities and shortcomings, it would be best to keep her in a background role for now.”

“I-I-I was thinking of going back down anyway,” Alphys said, clicking her claws together. “I wanted to set up a relay so the Underground could connect to the human internet and television.”

Toriel paused. “If you feel that is a valuable use of your time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Silas said. “I’ll get them to the Underground. What about Papyrus?”

“I am sorry he cannot be here when monsters make their debut. Tomorrow we will need our ambassador to begin his work, but for today please relax and get your rest. None of us will be getting much in the near future.” Papyrus seemed disappointed but said nothing.

That still left one person unaccounted for. “Frisk, would you like to go with me or stay with Papyrus?”

He expected the child to jump at the chance to stay with Papyrus rather than subject themself to another car ride with the guardian they only sort of tolerated. So it came as a surprise when Frisk nodded and said, “I… I’d like to stay with you.” They smiled and added, “I-I mean, it might be a little bit before I can see Alphys and Undyne again. I’d like to say ‘See you later’.”

Oh, right. That made sense. “Alright, I’ll leave things in your capable hands, Toriel. Remember, when the news cameras are on you have to present a united front. I understand you and Asgore-”

“I am well aware of my duties,” Toriel replied. She sighed and the hostility drained from her voice. “I apologize, this has been a rather emotional day. It will be good to get back to your house… already your couch feels like home.”

“That reminds me, if you’re going to be staying on to help with Frisk-”

“The couch is fine for the moment, we can discuss other arrangements later. I apologize, I am being informed the reporters are beginning to gather in the conference room and I must prepare. Do not worry, I am sure Marty can get us home safely when all is said and done. I may be home late, so make sure Frisk gets dinner and their homework done. I love you, Frisk, so be good, won’t you?” Frisk made an affirmative sound and they said their goodbyes before the call terminated.

Silas returned his phone to its spot on the wall with a sigh. Well, so much for a quiet evening at home.

* * *

Susan was spending a second day in a row sick, which was ridiculous. She had never gotten laid out by a cold like this before. Normally she would be able to fight it off or rally or at least force herself to go out and face the world. But she thought of her kids, the ones she only saw for a few hours a day but still thought of as ‘her kids’. She could imagine them now, wide smiles with missing teeth as they said “Good morning Miss Lee-ow!”. And the moment she saw them, she knew the thought that would barge into her head would be, “Some monster, who I’ve only ever seen being funny and nice, looked a child like this in the eye and decided to murder them in cold blood”. She could not handle that thought without breaking down crying.

She was watching reruns of some very old sitcom, dozing in and out to the hypnotic rhythm of canned laughter when it happened. The B-grade actor’s line cut off in mid-punchline, replaced by the tense and self-important jingle of the evening news. She opened one eye, puzzled. A newscaster behind a desk, his face pale, spoke directly into the camera. “We come to you with a report that defies all belief. We strongly suggest to everyone watching they find a place to sit down. Weymouth and the surrounding towns have been plagued by an epidemic of missing children, seven in the last twenty seven years. Three days ago we brought you news that eight year old Frisk Holder, the latest of the missing, had been found unharmed and placed with a new foster family. Today, we have learned the six other missing children have also been found alive and been reunited with their families. Even more inexplicably they are being accompanied by monsters, friendly monsters, who the children credit with keeping them safe. We go live now to the scene, where-”

Susan bolted upright, knocking her blanket off the couch. She stared at the screen in dumbfounded amazement. “They’re… they’re alive…?”

There the kids were, six of them, standing with people who looked like their parents. Some were awkward and embarrassed, others were waving and smiling, but all of them looked almost exactly how they did when they went missing. And in the center of them was Asgore, standing at a too-small podium and addressing the crowd of reporters with regal grace and commanding power only a King could claim. “Er-hrm, yes. I come to you today with hope and humility. I am aware that our appearance can be shocking. I know we defy many of your cherished beliefs simply by the nature of our existence. There is so much I wish to say. I want to tell you-”

“Dear me, what is this?” Shuchun’s mom shouted, one hand on her chest. She had entered the room without Susan even noticing. “That… that’s not a costume, is it?”

Susan leapt to her feet and wrapped her arms around her mom. She bounced up and down while giggling, “They’re alive! Mom, mom, I can’t believe it they’re alive! Ahahahaha it’s great, it’s so great, they’re alive!”

Her mother smiled thinly. “So glad to see you in good health again. Tomorrow you go back to work.”

She could not believe what she was hearing. “ _That’s_ what you’re focused on? Don’t you understand how huge this is?!”

“Shuchun, what I understand could scarcely fill a thimble. The world is much too complicated to be smart all the time. Monsters? People coming back from the dead? Too much for me! So tomorrow the sun will rise, the bills will be due, and so _you_ will go to work. Now sit down, but leave some room on the couch. This I have to see!”

Mother and daughter sat down on the sofa to watch history being made. But in the back of her mind Susan was thinking back to a few days prior, when she abandoned the monsters for their part in the deaths of those children. Damn it, if they were alive the whole time then what was the point of all that? Couldn’t they have just told her? And now, what was she going to say to them?

* * *

“So Dr. Gaster revived the humans?”

“that’s what it looks like,” Sans told Dogamy, taking another careful sip from a bottle of water while he watched the sunset. It had been hours since his attack, and he was only now feeling well enough to be up and about. The fresh air helped, as did the orange view of the countryside. “gaster created the soul jars so the human souls would stay preserved until they were ready to use. at the same time he theorized a ‘body jar’, something he could stick the empty bodies into to keep them from spoiling. he figured he could research how the human body worked… lemme see if i remember his exact words, ‘without that _patient consent_ malarkey getting in the way’. he told me he had no plans to make them but evidently he changed his mind without letting me in on it. he must have secretly stolen the bodies after asgore laid them in their coffins, confident the king wouldn’t bother to check to see if they were still there.”

Dogaressa rubbed her chin. “(So he put the bodies in the, uh, body jars, built a secret passage in the barrier room to hide them… and then?)”

Sans waved a hand in the air. “the central computer drive has been wiped, but i bet there was a program there to restore the bodies. heal the wounds that killed them, make them ‘alive’ again. then after the souls got released they found their way here and went back into their bodies. again, gaster must have planned for that; betcha those hangars weren’t empty when the kids woke up. he probably even left a note for ‘em, judging by the clean spot on the table. so the kids exit the chamber while closing the secret door behind them, walk past all of us that are soundly asleep, and out into the world. after that… who knows. but yeah, 110% those kids are alive.”

“Amazing!” Dogamy panted happily. “That Dr. Gaster is incredible to have pulled that off!”

“yeah, amazing.” Even as Sans said it he knew his theory was garbage. There was a sizable hole: the seventh human, the yellow soul. Gaster was already gone by the time that soul was collected, so there should not have been anyone to steal the body away and put it into the secret chamber. The only way that theoretical plan could have gone off without a hitch after Gaster’s disappearance was if he had a secret co-conspirator, someone he trusted more than Sans yet had absolutely no public dealings with. Was there anyone like that? Sans sincerely doubted it. But any other hypothesis he could make was even more crazy: Alphys couldn’t have pulled off something like this and kept it secret from Sans; none of the other scientists had anywhere near the clandestine resources to do this right under the King’s nose; and, well, everyone loved Asgore but to be blunt he was not clever enough to do something like this. Then there was the computer. It had apparently been set to format itself after completing the task of reviving the dead children. Why? What secrets were they trying to hide?

The Dogi’s ears perked up. “Someone’s coming,” Dogamy said, sniffing the air. “Really fast. Sounds like…”

“(The captain?)”

A cloud of dirt and dust billowed out from beneath the treetops, with more being kicked out in a trail leading directly up the mountain. Trees shook, the ground rumbled, and a faint-but-growing-louder shout of “nnngggaaaaaaAAAAAAAA _AAAAAAA_ _ **AAGHHHHHH!**_ ” boomed into the air. A blue-green blur shot up from below the edge of the cliff and Undyne, holding Alphys in a bridal carry, hung in the air for a brief moment before landing amongst the gathered monsters. What, she ran straight up the side of the sheer cliff? Even Sans was impressed. She landed with a thud, kicking up yet more dust into the air. Undyne placed Alphys on the ground and the yellow dinosaur hugged the dirt path for stability. The poor scientist looked ready to lose her lunch. Undyne then spun on her heel, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted down the mountain, _“_ _ **TIME!**_ ” The Dogi had to cover their ears against the sonic assault, and the echo lasted five full seconds. She explained at a normal volume, “I really ought to be holding the stopwatch myself, but we didn’t have one. Ah well, Silas’ll tell me what my time was when we come back. Phew, you done with that?” She pointed at Sans’ bottle of water, only half-empty despite him nursing it for the past hour.

Sans handed it over dutifully. She was going to have another attack if she did not rehydrate. “take it. you seem pretty happy. i guess there isn’t a horde of bloodthirsty humans on your trail?”

Undyne finished off the bottle of water in one gulp and wiped her mouth on her forearm. “Nah, we got a ride from Silas. Uh, he’s a guy we met on the surface who’s been helping us out a lot. But enough about that!” Undyne said with a wide grin on her face. “You have no idea how crazy things just got!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan was to get this out sometime before vacation ended and I succeeded at that by a slim margin, but between a sick wife and the normal holiday craziness I got a lot less done than I wanted. Such is life.  
> This plot development comes from two places: the idea that monsters would be easily accepted on the surface after being at the very least negligent in the deaths of children is optimistic even by Undertale's standards, and the coffins are revealed to be open and empty during the post-pacifist walkabout and need to be explained. I figured, why not let each problem solve the other? We'll be checking in on the other kids periodically from here on out, but they aren't going to be major characters. They and their parents have their own lives and their own problems separate from what the monsters are up to, and while I would love to follow them I need to limit the scope of this fic if I want to finish it in a reasonable timeframe! After all, one could probably make the argument I've got too many irons in the fire as it is...


	14. The King's Speech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than normal this time; sorry to do this after a month without an update, but I was almost finished with the next chapter when I realized I needed this one before it to flow properly. The next chapter should be out relatively soon, but don't get used to that kind of pace. I also messed with my timeline a bit so a subplot I wasn’t planning to resolve until after the timeskip will now be dealt with before it, so that also required a bit of editing. This is going to throw off the estimates for teasers I’ve provided in some of the comments; the events are still happening, but it might be an extra couple updates before we get to them. In exchange this chapter has a few teasers for other OCs that will show up in the future, including one I’ve already gotten quite a few questions about…

Asgore opened the door a tiny sliver and peeked out at the gathered reporters. Beatrice had called them here with “news concerning the children who have gone missing” but they were about to surprise them with something much bigger than they imagined. The children’s families had gathered at the front of the stage, allowing Amanda to speak for all of them (Beatrice had refused outright, and the others admitted she had the best speaking voice among them). At the proper time she would give a signal for Asgore and the children to join them on stage, and then Asgore would give a short speech and that would be it for today. Asgore formulated what he was going to say in his head; he had nothing pre-written and little time to prepare, hardly ideal circumstances for a speech. Still, he had gotten rather good at delivering them over the past thousand years. He could do this. Probably.

“Let us go out ahead of you,” Lilly suggested. “If they see you first they might panic; they still might anyway, but if they see us calmly walking with you they’ll understand you aren’t dangerous.”

He took in a breath. “Yes, let’s do that. That’s… awfully insightful of you.” She smiled at the praise but did not elaborate further. He turned to the Integrity child and asked, “Will you be alright, Rebecca? I heard about your injury. It’s not too late to get a chair or cane for you.”

She shook her head, keeping her chin down. “I’m… I’ll be fine. Standing isn’t a problem, I just put my weight on my other leg. I walked through the Underground after all, even if I had to stop and rest a bunch.” She swallowed and asked, “Are you going to tell them… about what I did?”

Asgore shook his head. “There won’t be time for that. I doubt we can even elaborate on my crimes, let alone any of yours. We don’t want to confuse them with too much all at once.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” A pause. “I wish we could get it over with. I hate this feeling. Like… they’re going to let me start going back to a normal life, but at any moment they could swoop in and lock me up and there isn’t anything I could do about it. I can’t even say I wouldn’t deserve it. But… if I’m going to be punished, I want them to get it over with and if I’m not to just tell me that.”

“Sword of Damocles,” Tyrone provided without looking at her. “The term is, ‘a sword of Damocles’.”

“Oh, just shut up,” Marijane spat. “Nobody cares what it’s called.”

“Children,” Asgore said pleadingly. “It’s fine if you feel a bit uncomfortable, but let’s get along for just a little longer. You will not have to say anything, let me do the speaking.” Marijane held her glare on Tyrone for a moment longer and turned away in a huff. Well, at least they stopped.

He looked out the door again to lock eyes with Amanda, who nodded only once. Showtime. Asgore opened the door and ushered the children through. Immediately the press corps began chattering excitedly, murmuring in surprise. Asgore came through last. As soon as he stepped into view the whispering stopped instantly, like a thick blanket had been thrown over the entire room. Asgore did not look out to see what kind of faces they were making. They were not screaming or drawing weapons, and that was as good as he hoped for. He nodded to the parents, took his place behind the podium, and began.

* * *

_Excerpted from “My First Speech on the Surface”, by Asgore Dreemurr_

“I come to you today with hope and humility. I am aware that our appearance can be shocking. I know we defy many of your cherished beliefs simply by the nature of our existence. There is so much I wish to say. I want to tell you about our history as an exiled people living under a mountain, lonely and forgotten. I want to tell you about our heartaches, our struggles, our triumphs that, while small to you, were the whole world for us. I want to tell you about our way of life, our holidays, our feasts, our games. I want to tell you about souls and magic and the barrier that kept us imprisoned. There is so, so much you have to know.

“But there will be time enough for all of that. Before anything else is possible, there is one message more important than all the others. One thing you must know and accept before I can talk about anything else. And I hope you are receptive to this message, or nothing we have done and nothing we will do will have any meaning. That message is this: we, the monsters, wish only to live in peace with humankind.”

* * *

In a dive bar a baseball game clicked off in favor of a special report. A hush descended as the news anchor informed the patrons of missing children, returned unharmed and unaged. Then Asgore appeared. The King of the Monsters. He was huge, with massive horns on his head, but despite this it was difficult to be afraid of him over the television screen. His protruding snout, his wide eyes, his floppy ears attempting to hide unsuccessfully behind his golden mane, all combined to make him look more goofy than scary. But even through a light alcohol-induced haze it was clear to everyone what he represented: a shifting of the tides. A changing of the seasons. People would look back and think in terms of whether something happened before the monsters, or after the monsters. Nothing would be the same.

On one side of the bar a police officer, recently resigned, glanced up from his drink. They want peace, huh? See how far that gets them. Darnell Weare scoffed and turned back to his beer, even though the rest of the patrons stared at the television with rapt attention. It was not his business. It was not his problem.

On the other side of the establishment a portly man with a lampshade mustache saw the massive Asgore out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was on everyone else. He was looking for something in their faces and found it readily, masked by surprise, disguised as awe: fear. He could use that fear. He personally did not feel that fear; he considered himself beyond such things. But change created anxiety, and in an effort to ease that anxiety people could be pushed in particular directions. A clever man, a man like Byron Rickford, could guide people toward his own ends. But not here, not now, he needed to be careful about this. He said a silent apology to the monsters, the only one he would ever offer, as visions of money and power danced in his head.

* * *

“Over the past thirty years six children fell into Mt. Ebbot. They each had their own reasons for coming. None suspected they would find us, an entire kingdom of monsters trapped underground. I will not attempt to make excuses or hide the truth. We could not return the children back to their homes, and the Underground should have been safe for them but was not. I tried to protect them and failed. They did indeed lose their lives. But in what I can only describe as an inexplicable miracle they are here before us, alive. I do not mean to make light of the situation, or to say they are unharmed. They have been returned to a world where all their old friends have grown out of their reach, their parents have aged, and the world today is different from the one they left behind. They may have their lives but their old worlds are gone. This is not a crime to be taken lightly.

“We promise the full story, so our actions and failures can be judged in totality. It is our intention to answer all your questions and satisfy your curiosity. For today, let it be enough to celebrate these families being reunited, and take their joy as an omen of our bright future.”

* * *

Governor Patrick Kimall had been prepared to welcome the monsters at first, but he had his doubts over whether the people of his state would really be so open toward them. The children added a new wrinkle to the political calculations; the children were alive, yes, but they had not aged. Had they traveled forward in time? Or had they died and been revived, as Asgore claimed? Or perhaps they were clones? Every theory seemed ridiculous, but extraordinary circumstances required extraordinary explanations. He had his people put out a cautious but optimistic statement that he was monitoring the situation but had no reason to suspect the monsters were a threat at this time. Not confirming himself to anything, leaving plenty of wiggle room to adjust to public opinion. He did send along an apology to the president, insisting his state could not accommodate international refugees with this sudden and unexpected influx of domestic refugees. So that was one goal reached.

Mayor Wilma Cole was less prepared. She had been ready with a statement to denounce the violence of monsters and their roles in the death of children, but with the children alive after all she was forced to abandon it. How could she have predicted this? Had Asgore lied about the children’s deaths for no clear reason? Or was he telling the truth about them returning to life? It was hard to tell which was more crazy. She met with her advisers and confidantes to try and get a handle on what to do. The consensus was to greet them cordially, see if she could get scientists to work with them, and have them research the children and how they came back. The monsters said they had no idea how they came back to life, and it was probably impossible to replicate, but… you never know, right?

* * *

“There was a seventh child, one we have been unable to bring closure to. They vanished from the surface thirty one years ago, and despite our efforts there is no trace of them we could find. The only clue we can provide is a name: ‘Chara’. I make this plea not for myself or my people, but for the family and friends they left behind. If anyone listening knows anything about this child, I implore you; let the world know. Let this child know that, though they are gone, they have not been forgotten.”

* * *

She was a director in the middle of filming what she hoped to be the film that finally won her an Academy Award. She maintained strict discipline on the set; no unauthorized devices, no visitors, no discussion of non-work topics, no distractions. The families of the actors, tradesmen, assistants, and other assorted crew could call and reach the set only in a matter of life or death, and every call was thoroughly screened. When shooting was done for the day everyone else would retreat to their beds and turn on their devices for the first time that day. Some of them would get the news then, many others would not until filming was done. The director was one of these; her husband knew how important it was for her to maintain her focus, and that she would be completely unable to do so if she heard this news. So he told her things were fine and how their daughter was getting along and nothing at all about monsters in her old hometown. Even after filming ended her work was not done; she would have to review footage, make notes, send directions to the CG people and a thousand and one other sets of boring drudge work that went into making a film. It was not even worth coming up for air; her self-imposed exile from the world outside her creative efforts continued long after it ended for everyone else.

Carol Caroli would have been very interested in Asgore’s speech. But she did not hear it, and would not hear of it for nearly a month.

* * *

“The coming months and years may prove challenging. No one can predict exactly the path we will take, but if I strain my eyes I see where we can end up. I see a world where human and monster eat, work, and live side by side without hate or fear. I see a world where a human couple asks their monster neighbor to babysit, secure that their children will be safe with them. I see a world where humanity and monsterkind push each other to ever greater heights, doing more together than they ever could alone, until the day comes when we no longer think of them as separate at all but a single unified harmonious melding of peoples. It is my greatest, most fervent hope that someday that world will become a reality. I would be grateful, and immeasurably honored, if all of you here and all of you listening could keep that world in your hearts until that day comes.”

* * *

The local news crews had not been prepared for revelations of such magnitude as what they got, but that would not be the case going forward. From the moment they stepped out into the open tomorrow every media organization in the country would be clamoring for a look and a word from the monsters, the first known case of truly sapient life on earth aside from humans. Asgore, Toriel, and Papyrus would have their days filled, and that meant a temporary end to the home-cooked meals. On his way back home Silas ran through the drive-thru, delivering food that at least no one had to cook.

Not that this satisfied Papyrus. “Greasebombs? Ugh, and I thought Grillby’s was the nadir of foodstuffs.”

“No worries,” Marty said, handing him a box while holding up a small package of fries in his other hand. “Got your salad right here. Oh and Silas, here are the unsalted ones.”

Silas reached over and took the offered starch sticks. “Thank _you_. Frisk, I have the kids meal.” Frisk accepted it with grabby hands and escaped to the couch to give the grown-ups room to discuss their grown-up things. Besides, cartoons weren’t going to watch themselves.

Asgore unwrapped his sandwich and set it on the table, applying a low flame to it. Toriel clicked her tongue. “Asgore, I think it’s plenty warm enough.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m turning it into monster food. I don’t like how human food sits inside me.”

“There is no reason to be so rude,” Toriel admonished, taking a bite of her burger. She chewed, swallowed… then got a strange look on her face. After a moment she conjured a flame in one hand and held the rest of her meal up to it, shooting a glare at Asgore. “Stop that.”

Asgore smiled innocently. “I said nothing.”

“You do not have to, I know that look.” Which was only stranger when one realized she could not even see his face from her angle.

“Anyway,” Asgore rumbled. “It looks as though we’re going to be very busy for the foreseeable future. Things went better than we had any right to expect, but I can’t help but feel we aren’t out of the clear. The children are alive, yes, but can it really be that simple? Could I not still be arrested and tried?”

Silas threw up his hands. “What would they charge you with? It can’t be kidnapping because it’s the barrier’s fault they could not leave. It can’t be murder because you did not kill them yourself and never explicitly told anyone to murder a human. It can’t even be incitement to violence: ‘Every human must die’ lacks a call for immediate action. And hate speech, while not protected, is not a crime in and of itself.”

Toriel clenched her jaw and the flame in her hand doubled in size. “Are you telling me, after all this, humans think Asgore did nothing wrong?!”

“No, I am saying he did nothing _illegal_. Big difference.”

Toriel shook her head, mindfully reducing her flame back to normal. “There ought not to be.”

Papyrus added, “It is surely a great boon to Silas’ profession and to our lives on the surface that there is!” He then took a long sip from his cup of soda, only to pause and put it back down. “I am sorry to bother you Silas, but may I have a towel? I have spilled my drink.” Marty tossed over a few napkins, which Papyrus began applying to the seat of their chair.

“Let’s go over our plans for tomorrow,” Silas said. “I have my day job, so I’ll be out before everyone else is up. Marty, you’ll drive Frisk to school. So far same as normal. Then you can get Asgore, Toriel, and Papyrus where they need to go. Are you going to need him on standby?”

“No, we were invited to a number of gatherings already. We are scheduled to be in a summit with Governor Kimball and Mayor Cole for all of tomorrow and most of the next day. Many news outlets want interviews with us as well. We’ll need his assistance at the beginning and end of the day, but in between he’ll be on his own time.”

“Cool, I’ve got my own thing to do,” Marty said. “I’m gonna set up social media accounts for the monsters. We really want them to have separate ones for each monster, but for now I think it’ll be okay for them to share just one. It’ll make it easier to, uh, stay ‘on message’.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Silas said. “You have a better head for that sort of thing.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Asgore said. “Silas, have you been paying Marty? I feel bad imposing on him so much, and he said he had a project we could help him with if we wanted to pay him back.” Marty tried to hide in Silas’ peripheral vision while furiously gesturing at Asgore to _Shut up!!!_ , but his warnings went unheeded.

Silas frowned without turning to look at his friend. “There is so ominous I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it.” Not until he could speak to Marty in private, just in case he needed to throttle him. “Anyway, I’ll be meeting with Beatrice tomorrow afternoon to try and buy the land around Mt. Ebott from here. Are you all sure I can discuss that on your behalf? If I mess up you’ll be the one paying the price, and business isn’t the same as law. I don’t know how well those skills will transfer.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Asgore assured him. “Today was evidence enough that neither of us could stand up to Beatrice. We trust you to negotiate on our behalf.” He took a test nibble of his hamburger, though the size of his mouth made it look similar to a normal person’s bite.

“I would feel a lot better if I had something to dangle in front of her nose besides your gold reserves. For instance, the secret to immortality? I’ve caught you making remarks that suggest you’re much older than you look. If the monsters have some way to prolong their natural life, that could be a great carrot to dangle in front of an old woman’s nose.”

Asgore shook his head but finished swallowing before speaking. “It is not magic that has given me a long life. It is simply the way monsters are; I could not teach it to you any more than a snake could teach you how to molt. We will give her anything we have in exchange for the land, but do not promise her magic of her own or to push back time. Those things are not ours to give.”

Silas studied Asgore’s face, looking for a trace of deception but only seeing a few crumbs in his beard. Rats. “Okay. You don’t need to worry about Frisk, I will pick them up in the afternoon then head to Beatrice’s.” Silas had brought up that he had nobody to watch over his foster child during the proposed meeting, and Beatrice offered to set up a playdate with her niece Lilly. Frisk readily agreed to the arrangement; not surprising, concerning their troubles with classmates at school.

Toriel nodded. “That will be well. Oh, there was something I meant to ask you. I got quite a good look at the reporters yesterday and I noticed something curious. I saw many people with brown eyes, or blue eyes, or green eyes, but none of them were red. How often do humans have red eyes?”

Marty answered, “You know, Frisky-bits here is the only person with red eyes I’ve ever met.”

Silas agreed, “I know it can also happen in the case of albinism but outside of that I’ve never heard of it. It must be extremely rare.”

“Is that so?” A smile crept onto her face and she looked away from the table. “Is that so…?”

 

**Author's Note:**

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